


Conquest of Spaces

by Eunmih



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: 18th Century, 19th Century, Alternate Universe, Assassin's Creed AU, England (Country), Historical References, Industrial Revolution, M/M, Slow Burn, Social Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eunmih/pseuds/Eunmih
Summary: A different revolution is rising. More subtle. A blaze from the ashes of an old brotherhood. Amongst the violence, amongst the chaos, I will pave the way to victory. And if I fail, two more shall take my place.-	Master Assassin Shin Hoseok, 1810.---Hoseok, an Assassin disciple, arrives in London in the midst of the Industrial Revolution with a mission of his own. But with the Assassin Brotherhood facing eradication, he must make a choice. Will he stay loyal to The Creed and help his brothers and sisters rebuild? Or will he be swayed by the Templars like many other Assassins before him? Perhaps Hyungwon can help Hoseok find a third option.





	1. Sequence 1, Memory 0.5

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriam/gifts).



> The Assassin's Creed universe is very rich. It would be impossible for me to write this fic without a couple of mentions and references here and there. However, for those of you not familiar with AC, I will always post short explanations whenever required.
> 
> Warning: this is not a history book. I will try to keep up with every little event but historical inaccuracies are bound to happen.

_March, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

_“Out of the dark, you come into the light. From the light, you will return to the dark.”_

 

 

  
It is sometimes hard to remember how easy life used to be, before the world changed.

  
His world.

  
One single step forward and there he was: miles and miles away from home, in a city where the streets smell of horseshit and human urine. Charming, right? No, not really.

  
“At least the beer is nice…” Hoseok mumbles to himself.

  
The barman raises an eyebrow at him. “Clearly. Though, people tend to think that about beer, especially at this hour.” He glances at the big wooden clock by the left wall. “It’s 4am. I should be closing now.”

  
But Hoseok is not listening. His eyes are glued to the dark brown wood counter and he’s using his nail to scratch the polish off. He seems determined to dig a hole through it, though the barman finally manages to get his attention.

  
“Nice ring. Family inheritance or…?”

  
Hoseok pauses and glances at the man without moving an inch of his body. “Yes,” He interrupts.

  
The ring in question is bulged and made of gold. It has the Brotherhood’s symbol and a small ruby at its centre. It sits comfortably in Hoseok’s right ring finger and it’s only visible because he took his glove off.

  
“Don’t worry,” the barman shrugs, “I don’t want it.”

  
Uncomfortable silences are something Hoseok is accustomed to. Even if they’re alone and the only hearable sound is a sore hauling coming from outside.

  
“So, tell me,” the barman throws a towel over his shoulder and leans over the counter, ponytail dandling over his back, “what is your exotic ass doing, at this ungodly hour, in a place like this?”

  
Hoseok’s lips quiver. There’s a desire growing deep in his throat as if he’s about to start rambling. But he doesn’t. He swallows it and smiles in a dismissive way instead. “Sightseeing,” he says. That should be enough information, he thinks.

  
The barman laughs. “And what’s your name?”

  
A pause.

  
“Wonho,” Hoseok replies.

  
“Weird name.”

  
“Your pub is called The Wheezing Mermaid…”

  
“Fair enough..."

  
The clock ticks. Once. Twice.

  
" _Well_ , Wonho… I think it’s time for you to finish your beer and get moving. You might be an owl, but some people have things to do.” Another pause. “Other things.”

  
Hoseok replies by grabbing his mug and downing the rest of the beer down his throat. He puts the mug down and reaches for his glove before getting up and patting his black leather coat as if he’d been sitting there collecting dust.

  
The barman’s eyes are on the golden handle of Hoseok’s sword that is peeking just enough out the sheath. But he makes no comment.

  
“How much?” Hoseok asks, reaching for the money pouch on his belt.

  
The other man shakes his head. “On the house. Just make sure you come back. I like loyal customers. Plus, you're new around here. I'm starting to worry something bad will happen to you and the Yard ends up showing at my door to ask me questions. No offense but it's bad for business.”

  
Hoseok smiles, genuinely this time. “Aw… that’s cute.”

  
“My wife would disagree.”

  
“Tactful, I see. Noted.”

  
“Yes…”

  
“Well,” Hoseok plucks out one of the shiny silver buttons with an engraved eagle he has pinned around his belt, “here.”

  
The barman reaches for the pin. “What is it?”

  
“What matters is what it’s for.”

  
“And what is it for?”

  
Hoseok runs his fingers through his dark hair and in the same movement pulls his black hood over his head. He can see understanding dawning in the other man’s blue eyes. “It keeps you out of trouble,” he says before he turns to walk away.

  
He's already by the door when the barman speaks again. “Next time try the bitter. It's quite drinkable.”

  
Hoseok turns his head slightly over his shoulder and smirks. “Noted.”

 

 

 

  
It’s cold outside. And dark. Really dark. But the cold and the darkness are welcomed. They feel like a familiar embrace.

  
Hoseok feels calm. He takes a deep breath and looks up.

  
Clouds. And that horrid putrid smell.

  
The sound of his heels hitting the stone echoes through the empty street. Hoseok feels hugged by walls of brick that lead into alleys and more alleys.

  
He walks. And walks. And walks. He walks until the sound of his steps is in perfect harmony with the steps of whoever is walking down that street.

  
There’s a job to be done. And London was manmade for it.

  
The darkness, the smell, and the silent Assassin. A horrible city and the Eagle’s path.


	2. Sequence 1, Memory 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The British Brotherhood of Assassins - a Guild of Assassins based in the British Isles which has existed since at least the early 13th century.
> 
> Pieces of Eden - technologically sophisticated devices crafted by the First Civilization in order to react with the network of neurotransmitters implanted in humans' brains and bring them to heel, the latter having been engineered to serve as slave labor. As such, the Pieces' powers have mystified humanity over millenia, enough so for them to conflate their effect as "magic" throughout history.
> 
> 1735 (England) - Master Assassin Edward Kenway, Leader of the British Brotherhood, is killed by mercenaries in the employ of the Templar Grandmaster.
> 
> 1735 +/- (England) - Haytham Kenway, son of Edward Kenway, is converted to the Templar cause by the Order's Grandmaster.
> 
> 1754 (Atlantic Ocean) - Assassin Louis Mills is killed by Haytham Kenway.
> 
> 1781 (United States) - Haytham Kenway is killed by Ratonhnhaké:ton (Connor), a Master Assassin of the Colonial Brotherhood of Assassins during the period of the American Revolutionary War.
> 
> 1791 (France) - Royal Family attempts escape to Austria.
> 
> 1791 (Korea) - Persecution of Catholicism begins.

_May, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

_“Information learned is more valuable than information given.”_

 

  
With England growing in power, Hoseok is surprised to learn that the British Brotherhood pales in comparison to the stories he’d heard. At this point, they are probably struggling way more than the Brotherhood back home.

  
Following a sequence of events that led to the Assassin Louis Mill’s death, the Templars had started to turn the tide. Branching out like a thorny vine, the Order had been placing pawns in every house of power, which crippled the Assassin’s information network.

  
And as if things can only get worse, the news coming out of France are very alarming. It seems the revolution is getting worse. As if the controversial and failed attempt to end the Assassin-Templar war a few years back hadn’t been enough.

  
The Assassins have their hands tied. There is no way they're sending help.

  
Sad, Hoseok thinks, how something once so grand and so full of meaning was starting to lose its charm to brutes with a thirst for power. _Again_.

  
Worry is in the air. And every conversation is the same. Therefore, Hoseok is not surprised by the suspicious dialogue between the two Master Assassins sitting by the fireplace in the social room.

  
“So, who or what will take its place?” One of them asks with a rather exaggerated hand flick. “Another _king_? Can we bask in tyranny and dream about Masyaf?”

  
Masyaf. Usually a reference to Al Mualim, the _mentor_ , whose desire to obtain the Apple of Eden led to him secretly working with the Knights Templar, sworn enemies of his own Order. Al Mualim, a man corrupted by power. A traitor. And a name invoked by conservative men whose faith stays true to The Creed.

  
_But to what Creed?_ Hoseok wonders. A ghost of a thought runs through his mind before he can catch it.

  
A question.

  
_The_ question.

  
“A council of respectable men. Like yourself.” The other man replies, a note of exasperation in his voice. “Be reasonable, brother.”

  
Hoseok walks in, small steps until he’s near the big world map painted on the giant marble wall. It’s a big room. All decorated in wood and golden ornaments just like the rest of the house. It’s all part of a building complex in the outskirts of London that the Brotherhood has been using as headquarters for the past three years.

  
“A democracy, then,” the conservative man scoffs. “You should move to France.” His garbs are of a very ugly teal and Hoseok can’t help but think his outfit matches him perfectly. Call it an Assassin’s sense, though, but the man turns his head right as Hoseok’s brain registers that thought. A look passes between them before the man goes, “Hey, kid! Come here.”

  
Hoseok presses his back against the painted map, hoping to merge himself with the African continent. It's with great reluctancy that he decides to move and follow as instructed.

  
The man goes on, “Tell me, what’s your opinion on this Assassin Council everyone keeps rambling about?”

  
The reasonable man sighs. “Come on, Daniel. Don’t put him on the spot.”

  
Hoseok feels his heartbeat jump in a race. He opens his mouth to answer but doesn’t know what to say. Suddenly, he doesn't know English. He’s used to keeping his opinions to himself. It's what he's been taught: _serve, don't question_.And it's what The Creed asks of him. But here, so far from home, things are different. Maybe they weren't _always_ different, but people are starting to ask question. Many, _many_ questions.

  
Eyes cast down, Hoseok is starting to blush. Luckily, he’s saved when his newly assigned Mentor, Master D’Lewis, enters the room and says in his loud, strong voice, “Hoseok, I’m glad you’re here.”

  
D’Lewis is a tall man and towers the average person with ease. He wears a blue long coat with a beautiful shoulder cape. As if his voice wasn’t enough to shut everyone up, he looks presentable enough to do the job.

  
“Mentor,” Hoseok replies, bowing his head slightly as the man passes by.

  
“Master,” The other two Assassins say in unison and bow their heads.

  
D’Lewis walks up to the big table at the centre of the room, grabs a chair and moves to sit down. “I’ve been corresponding with your betters,” He starts, eyes craved on a letter in his hand. He gives Hoseok a quick glance and smiles small when he says, “Master Hyunwoo sends his regards.”

  
Hoseok grins. It’s always nice to hear from home. Suddenly, he wishes he’d write more often. He left good friends there.

  
“It seems there’s a lead,” D’Lewis says, pausing just to see Hoseok’s eyes widen slightly. “It seems _someone_ here in London has heard of _something_.”

  
Hoseok takes a step forward, “So it’s here?”

  
D’Lewis nods. “It’s here. We think…”

  
Daniel, the grumpy conservative man, gets up from his chair. “Wait. A Piece of Eden? Here? Now?” He points at the door. “We should be on it! All of us!”

  
“ _We_ ,” D’Lewis says, raising his voice, “should not mobilize the entire Brotherhood based on a rumour. This,” he looks at Hoseok, “is why our brother is here with us. _He_ will investigate.”

  
Takes him a while, but Daniel ends up sitting back down in pure indignation.

  
With a sigh D’Lewis adds, “I believe you haven’t met Master Daniel, Daniel Strikes. And Master Anthony Whitewood.”

  
Hoseok nods in acknowledgement towards the two. Anthony nods back with a warm smile, but Daniel just grumbles.

  
D’Lewis composes himself and continues. “There’s a man within the Templar Order who might know more. However, he’s nearly untouchable as of late. He’s been rising in ranks like it’s a race against time and,” he nods, “honestly, I’m afraid it’s turning into one. Whatever this,” he glances at the letter, “is, the Templars don’t know about it yet. So, let’s thread carefully.”

  
Hoseok nods, “What do you need me to do?”

  
“Investigate. Find out who this man is and what he wants. I want to know what he knows. Then, report back to me.”

  
Hoseok nods with determination.

  
D’Lewis smiles small. There’s wisdom in his eyes. “Be careful, lad. We’ve been losing too many good men lately.” He glances at the letter again. “Your target’s name is—” he pauses and squints his eyes, “Chae Hyung—Hyungwon.”

  
Chae Hyungwon.

  
_Hyungwon?_

  
There’s pure disbelief dawning all over Hoseok’s face. There’s no such thing as coincidence. “That’s… curious.” He says.

  
“Right? Thought so too. You told me the Templars didn’t know about the Piece of Eden.”

 

Hoseok shakes his head, “They didn’t. We thought it was their source of power, how they kept beating us at every turn, but turns out they were just cunning.”

  
“Then I don’t see why they’d send someone all the way out here. Korea is… far away. And with the Catholic Persecutions… Thought they’d have their hands full.”

  
Daniel grumbles again, “If the Brotherhood sent someone then it’s only logical the Templars sent someone as well. If only to check on what the heck we’re pulling out of our arse this time ‘round.”

  
“Perhaps,” D’Lewis agrees despite the eye twitch at Daniel’s language. He looks at Hoseok then, “Go. This needs to be done by _yesterday_.”

  
Hoseok feels his insides bubbling in excitement. He’s finally closing in on it: a chance to redeem himself and close this strange chapter of his life.

  
“Yes, Mentor.”


	3. Sequence 1, Memory 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The British Rite of the Templar Order - Rite of the Templar Order based in the United Kingdom.
> 
> East India Company - an English and later British joint-stock company, formed to trade with the East Indies, but ended up trading mainly with Qing China and seizing control of large parts of the Indian subcontinent.
> 
> 1666 (England) - A fight between Assassins and Templars inside the bakery (or baker's house) of Thomas Farriner (or Farynor) on Pudding Lane shortly after midnight on Sunday, 2 September, starts a fire that rapidly spreads west across the City of London.
> 
> 1666 (England) - The Great Fire of London; It consumed 13,200 houses, 87 parish churches, St Paul's Cathedral, and most of the buildings of the City authorities. It is estimated to have destroyed the homes of 70,000 of the City's 80,000 inhabitants.
> 
> 1775 (Portugal) - The Assassins disturb a First Civilization temple in hopes it contained a Piece of Eden and inadvertently trigger a massive earthquake.
> 
> 1775 (Portugal) - The Great Lisbon Earthquake; In combination with subsequent fires and a tsunami, the earthquake almost totally destroyed Lisbon and adjoining areas.

_May, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

_“It's all a matter of perspective (…)”_

 

  
London, a city in the early stirrings of the Industrial Revolution. Dirty, corrupt and full of disparities. There’s no shortage of work to do, especially for the Assassins.

  
Hoseok knows what’s to come in the next century. Most Assassins do. And he’s sad he’s going to miss most of it: the big boom everyone whispers about.

  
And as he looks down from the rooftops at the busy, large and rich streets of Westminster, Hoseok can’t help but wonder what all this will look like in 30 years, and 50 and then 100.

  
He also sees _them_ , the Templars, working like ants, stretching their little _tunnels_ everywhere and reaching farther than Southward’s slums. They’re loading some cargo, but Hoseok can’t tell what it is, not even when he squints his eyes and tries to focus.

  
Hoseok had been watching the Templars for two weeks, and turns out finding Chae Hyungwon was proving hard. People knew of him, but most had never actually seen the man. It felt like navigating a maze without patterns.

  
Trying to get closer, Hoseok pulls his hood on, slides down the inclined roof and lets gravity help him on the way down as he bounces from window to window. He makes a soft-landing right in front of an old lady. Her little squeak makes him grin.

  
He turns and walks slowly, almost casually, towards a nearby tree. With hooded eyes he watches as the Templars finish loading the caravan.

  
One of them says, “Alright, it’s loaded! C’mon, boys, time to deliver!” He braces around like the typical narcistic boss and his grunts sigh and comply.

  
Hoseok needs to confirm his lead. He has learned the name Hyungwon is associated with several illegal imports the East India Company has been running. Therefore, he needs to know what’s in those boxes. And he needs to get his hands on the manifesto.

  
There’s a total of six men. Two are already going back inside the warehouse, three are climbing into the back with the cargo and the other one has already taken the reins.

  
As the caravan departs, Hoseok starts running. Luckily, no one sees him until he’s already reaching the wagon and, with a kick, leeching himself to its back.

  
He hoops inside, landing on one knee. The way he is slowly trying to rise to both feet without losing his balance makes for quite the entrance.

  
The three men get up.

  
“What the—” One of them starts, but Hoseok elbows his throat and in the same movement throws his fist to the opposite side, hitting another one straight in the face. He’s fast, fluid and precise.

  
Both men fall off the wagon.

  
The one holding the reins looks over his shoulder and screams “Shit” when he sees Hoseok. He strikes the horses so hard that the change of speed is instantaneous. Both his associate and Hoseok struggle to regain balance while they avoid a bunch of falling crates.

  
The man in front of Hoseok flails, “We’re losing the cargo, fuckin’ fopdoodle!”

  
“Just get rid of him!” The other one replies.

  
Hoseok is almost dizzy, but he smiles. “I don’t know what that word means but it sounds unkind.” He is using the crates to hold himself steady when the caravan makes a heavy turn. They swing wildly as the wagon takes down a few street lamps. “Which of you can tell me where I can find Chae Hyungwon?” He asks loudly.

  
The man in front of him is making the ugliest expression, as if he’s about to throw up. All he spats is “Shut up!” Before he’s launching himself towards Hoseok.

  
Hoseok fists his hand on the handle of the crate he was using to stand up and uses the caravan’s momentum to force-smash the crate against the man’s chest. Surprisingly, the handle flies off, but the crate stays intact.

  
_Sturdy stuff._

  
The man falls with a painful shout and Hoseok mumbles, “Excuse me,” as he tries to move towards the front of the wagon without stepping all over the man.

  
He stumbles towards the final grunt and elbows him on the head, holding the now fainted man steady as he takes the reins and slowly forces the horses to stop.

  
People are looking and whispering.

  
Hoseok decides to move fast. He searches both grunts and finds the manifesto. There’s a point of origin: Japan; the contents: tea— “ _Tea?_ ” he breathes, heavily, and frowns at the crates, “All this for tea?” He shakes his head. “I thought this was some kind of illegal operation…”

  
All ports and trading outposts are noted down. And there's an address.

  
City of London, near The Thames.

  
Hoseok smiles, “Found you.”

 

 

 

  
The moon is shining, uncharacteristically so, when Hoseok arrives at the docks. He’s on top of a warehouse, looking at a small mansion nearby. The breeze bathes him with the smell from The Thames and he finds himself nearly nauseated.

  
There are a few guards nearby, but not enough to make this impossible: Hoseok wants to go inside undetected, find whatever information he can and escape.

  
It takes him an hour to memorize guard rotations and another hour to locate a feasible entry point. With some luck his little errand with the carriage hasn’t been reported yet. No one will be expecting him, he hopes.

  
Navigating a house of that size—even though it is smaller compared to most mansions—is completely different from what he'd expected, though. There’s corridors and more corridors and just enough furniture for Hoseok to use as cover.

  
He reaches a library and is in awe for a few seconds before he must hide in the shadows again.

  
One day, electricity will make his job nearly impossible, he muses.

  
After another corridor, however, Hoseok walks into what seems to be an office. It’s brighter than the rest of the house, the windows are open, and the moonlight is shining through the waving curtains. It’s a big room, full of books, a huge desk and—

  
Hoseok notices a shadow by the window.

  
His senses flare when the shadowed figure moves towards the light and slowly turns into a man.

  
He’s tall, slender and dressed in black and gold. He looks fragile but mesmerizing. _And_ not English.

  
There’s a certain quietude about him, as if he’s not surprised to see a strange, hooded man in his office.

  
Hoseok feels electric current build in the air. It’s almost unbearable, but then—

  
“Are you here to kill me?” The man asks with a perfect English accent and a chestnut-like voice.

  
Hoseok snaps back to reality. He hadn’t noticed his hand moving towards the grip of his sword. _Was he_ … was he scared?

  
“No.” He replies both to the man and to his own thoughts, his voice a little stiff.

  
The man slowly folds his arms and looks out the window. He brings one hand up and uses his thumb to stroke the Templar cross pinned on the folded collar of his coat. “I see, that’s good.” And then he smiles, “Took you long enough.”

  
Hoseok frowns. He doesn’t speak, but his body tenses up in a question: _you knew?_

  
The man chuckles and glances at Hoseok in a daring way. “Here’s some unsolicited advice: never ask for a man’s address, not when business is his whole life, and he has multiple trading networks.”

  
Suddenly, Hoseok feels dumb.

  
“Need enlightenment?” The man asks, almost jokingly. “It’s a web.” He explains, letting his arms fall, “And I’m the spider.” He starts to move towards the desk in the middle of the room. “And you know what travels quicker than a caravan? Information.”

  
_He knows about the caravan._

  
This time, either out of frustration or annoyance, Hoseok does grip the handle of his sword.

  
If only looks could kill…

  
The man Hoseok assumes to be Hyungwon moves the big chair by the desk and sits down. He motions towards the smaller chair on the opposite side. “Sit. I’d like to have a few words with you.”

  
“Haven’t you done that already?” Hoseok mumbles through gritted teeth. He needs to get out of there, but he needs something. He can’t go back empty handed. Especially because now the Templars _know_.

  
Hyungwon smiles. “If you’re not here to kill me, you’re looking for something. Information? We can trade.”

  
“I don’t make deals with your kind.”

  
“ _Oh_ , right.” Hyungwon laces his fingers together in amusement. “Because we’re evil. An irrevocable argument, you’re right.” He looks down, expression unreadable. When he speaks again, his voice sounds an octave lower, “Because _your_ kind is better.” He looks back up and glares at Hoseok. “Starting fires over petty revenges… Pitiful… All blind by vengeance and an unsanctionable thirst to stay on top…”

  
Hoseok takes a step forward, now feeling a little braver and angrier. “The fire was _you_. _You_ almost burnt this city to the ground.”

  
“Details,” Hyungwon glares. “Points of view are interesting, you know. Like the earthquake in 55. Details, right?”

  
“That’s—”

  
“Exactly. A mistake… Have you been to Lisbon? The tales a wrecked city could tell…”

  
A heavy silence fills the room and they glare at each other. Hoseok speaks first.

  
“The caravan…” He starts, frowning. “You’re smuggling tea?”

  
Hyungwon chuckles. “Oh, _that_. No. Your people and your subliminal aversion to Templars… No wonder we can’t see eye to eye.”

  
“What is that supposed to mean?”

  
“It means you got it wrong. Which is why I assumed you were here to end my life. Because I’m—What exactly do you think I’m doing?” Hyungwon leans forward, smirk threatening his lips. “Smuggling tea?” Another chuckle. “Amusing.”

  
“I saw the manifesto. And I’ve asked around. You’re like a ghost but people speak your name. So, I ask: If you’re not the one behind the illegal imports the East India Company has been running, why is your name involved?”

  
Hyungwon’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and he smiles. “A _very_ good question isn’t it?” He shrugs. “And _see_? We _are_ talking. _Trading_ , even. Interesting, isn’t it?”

  
Hoseok feels uncomfortable. This man is cunning. A fox. Or a snake. Hoseok hasn’t decided yet. But whatever the man is, Hoseok knows that whatever information he needs, he won’t get for free.

  
“What’s wrong, Assassin?” Hyungwon taunts. “Afraid I’ll shoot beams out of the cross on my chest? Don’t worry,” He pats the pin, “it’s harmless. _Or_ , are you allergic to garlic?” He shakes his head, “I apologize. I’m afraid today’s dinner might have been seasoned with some.”

  
Hoseok feels angry. “You mock things you know nothing about.”

  
“Teach me, then.”

  
“ _Huh?_ ” Hoseok’s face scrunches in confusion and bit of disgust.

  
Hyungwon explains. “I had—have a proposition and I’m hoping you’ll give it some thought.” Their eyes meet, and he goes on, “An alliance.”

  
“ _What_.”

  
Hyungwon raises his head, determination in his eyes. “Forget about the Templars. Forget about the Assassins. Forget about this silly war. An alliance between _you_ and _me_. I know you want something and I know I have what you want. And believe it or not, I could use your help. Meeting you here, now, is an opportunity I am not willing to pass.”

  
Hoseok registers the information and then laughs. Of all the nonsense he's heard Templars spew in their own favor, this one is new. He can feel years and years of wisdom with a voice of its own scorn at the idea alone.

  
Whatever, or whoever this man is, he is not innocent. He is dangerous and runs with dangerous people. Hoseok has killed others for less and the temptation is dandling inside him. However, _that_ is not the mission. And he shouldn't act on his own.

  
“Let me show you what I’m trying to do.” Hyungwon sounds a little desperate now, and Hoseok feels like he has the upper hand. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

  
“You don’t know me.”

  
“And _you_ don’t know me. So, let me _show_ you.”

  
Hoseok opens his left hand as the hidden blade comes out of his bracer, a showoff. “No.” He’s already taking a step forward when Hyungwon speaks again.

  
“If you want to kill me,” he says calmly, “do it quick. There are two men coming up the stairs, and they’ll cross the corridor behind you in less than two minutes.” He gets up, face unreadable, body relaxed. “I’m not afraid to die, Assassin… Dying is easy. I am here because I choose to be here. And you? Why are you here?” His face contorts into disgust. “ _Ah_. Precisely. You are here because someone else told you to be here.”

  
Hoseok freezes in anger and slowly withdraws the hidden blade.

  
The mission…

  
_The order._

  
Chatter can be heard coming from the corridor.

  
Hoseok’s heart starts jamming against his chest and he looks at Hyungwon. His face probably looks like a question, at least Hyungwon takes it that way.

  
“Southwark. West-side docking bay. 2 days. I’ll be there with the information you want. Show up.” A pause. “But if you do, I’ll know you’ve taken the deal.” And a smirk that looks nothing close to sunny.

  
Hoseok’s body is moving before his brain registers it. He grabs the chair Hyungwon had previously offered him and says, “You should be a salesman,” bitterly before he throws it towards the door behind him in a big smash that slams the door shut and gives him enough time to run and exit the building through the closest window.

  
Hyungwon is smiling when Hoseok looks at him over his shoulder.

  
Then, a five meters worth free fall.

  
He rolls when he hits the floor, but the impact hurts nevertheless. He’ll need at least 2 days to wear that one off. _And_ he needs a drink. Or two.

  
His brain is telling him he should go back and report what happened, even with the little information he has. But he made a mistake. He got caught. And he needs to correct it.

  
If he can’t kill Hyungwon, he’ll need at least enough information to weight against being discovered. He might as well consider meeting with the man. If only to kill him in the end.


	4. Sequence 1, Memory 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1776 (France) - Assassin Charles Dorian is assassinated by the ex-Assassin, now Templar, Shay Cormac.
> 
> 1776 (France) - Arno Victor Dorian, son of Charles Dorian, is adopted by the Templar François de la Serre.
> 
> 1789 (France) - François de la Serre is murdered by his fellow Templars, people who didn't agree with François' idea of peace between Templars and Assassins.
> 
> 1789 (France) - Arno Victor Dorian joins the French Brotherhood of Assassins.
> 
> 1789+/- (France) - The Templars split into two factions; a conservative faction that follows Élise de la Serre, François' daughter, and one that follows the new Grandmaster of the French Order, who wanted to encourage the rise of the middle class at the expense of the aristocracy.

_May, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

_“Life's hardest choices are the ones that force you to question your own moral code.”_

 

 

 

The Wheezing Mermaid.

  
During the day, a respectable place to meet and have a drink. By night, a crowded port for desperate men who decorate the floor in a miserable drunken state.

  
“This place is a little… dirty,” Hoseok notes as he walks in.

 

The barman smiles from behind the counter. “It is, isn’t? And it’s not even 11.”

  
A few men stand between Hoseok and the counter, and he grimaces as he makes his way around them. It boosts his mood to be greeted with a pint once he reaches the bar. It's yellow and bubbling with life, courtesy of the barman.

  
“Feeling better?”

  
“Slightly,” Hoseok replies. He takes the beer and drinks almost half of it in one go before he slums it down and sighs. “What have you learned?”

 

The barman inspects their surroundings before he takes a paper out of his pocket. It’s the manifesto Hoseok had managed to steal from Hyungwon’s grunts. “Well,” he starts, “at first it seemed like a coincidence… But this warehouse?” He points somewhere in the paper, Hoseok doesn’t look, “It used to belong to the Crawlers. They used to run a trading company. I’ve done some deals with them in the past.”

  
“What kind of deals?”

  
The barman sighs and lowers his voice. “The illegal kind? Look, sometimes permits only get you so far. Anyway, I asked around and it seems the company was recently acquired by someone else.”

  
Hoseok, frowns. “By who?”

 

With a wink the barman smiles, “By whom. And well, no one knows. Apparently, the buyer decided to stay anonymous. But with the information on this manifesto, I think it’s safe to deduce it belongs to whoever it is you say you've met.”

  
“Hyungwon.”

  
“Whatever,” the barman shrugs. “I don’t care.”

  
Hoseok nods. “Thank you. Anything else?”

 

“ _Ah_ , yes. This unusual thing… my contact told me to stay out of it because I was entering—”

  
“Templar territory,” Hoseok completes.

  
“Right. And I assume that’s bad.”

 

“It is.”

  
The barman leans in, “Right. Just how bad? Look, I’ve known you for two months and you’re a great guy and all but dying is not a priority. I have a wife.”

  
Hoseok smiles, “So you keep telling me. Yet I have never seen her.”

  
“She’s pregnant.”

  
“Con…gratulations?”

  
The barman frowns. “Why? I’m not the one who’s pregnant.”

  
“Obviously.”

  
“Look, Wonho… Just don’t get me in trouble. Better, don’t get yourself in trouble.”

  
“I won’t.”

  
“Why don’t I believe you?”

  
Hoseok takes two coins out of his money pouch and leaves them on the counter before he gets up to leave. “Because I’m a terrible liar.”

 

 

 

 

Two days have passed, and now Hoseok must decide whether he will agree to Hyungwon’s request or not. But while his brain is still contemplating how bad the whole idea sounds, his body is moving on its own.

 

He feels slightly conflicted. He knows people are quick to judge, himself included, but slow to correct themselves. He made a mistake, he was discovered. But he’s willing make up for it. Even if it means he must abide by this strange Templar’s side for a while. However, he is still an Assassin. And letting go of values he’s been taught all his life to believe in leaves a strange taste in his mouth. He knows there’s a word for it. Betrayal? No, that isn’t quite right. Nothing so simple as that.

  
There’s a reason why the Brotherhood works the way it does. The Creed teaches that nothing is forbidden. And while some might interpret it as a means to do whatever they want, however they please, no matter the cost, Hoseok understands that such is not its true purpose.

 

The Creed is not a permission to pursue ideals, to grab for whatever is within their reach. The Creed is a warning. And Hoseok has learned to take it as such.

  
He is already taking enough liberty by deciding to make up for his mistake. But he knows it’s his responsibility. And _that_ is something he takes very seriously.

 

The night sky is starting to turn pink when Hoseok arrives at the meeting spot, probably a whole 12 hours late. He’s not quite sure how things will work out. He knows he’s dandling in uncharted territory by agreeing to meet with this Templar.

  
And, as such, it’s not the Assassin's way if Hoseok waits around in the open.

  
There are a few tall iron awnings outside a warehouse nearby, shadowed enough to serve as hiding spot. Hoseok climbs one and waits.

  
He thinks about Master Hyunwoo and wonders if he would approve. Connections with Templars are not exactly a taboo... The problem being they never end well. The tragedy of the Templar François de la Serre is still fresh, after all, and many Assassins don’t look kindly on such dealings. Hoseok being one of them.

 

Yet here he is.

  
The irony makes his stomach knot. Or maybe it knots because he hasn’t eaten in a while.

  
The docks are quiet, which is unusual. Usually people get to work before sunrise.

  
Hoseok is torn between thinking about his current situation and imagining all the Korean food he could be eating were he back home when steps echo through the port. He hears not one, not two, but at least three people.

  
He pulls his hood a little lower, trying to shadow his eyes from the sudden ray the sun throws his way. The shadows no longer cloak him, and he knows he needs to move. But before he can throw himself at the windowsill of another building, he sees three men cut the corner of the warehouse. They haven’t seen him yet and they’re going to pass right under the awning.

 

Two men dressed in red following a man with a silk hat. Hoseok can’t see his face, but he recognizes the shinny Templar cross pinned to the man’s jacket.

  
Crawling like a cat waiting for its prey, Hoseok watches as their figures disappear under one side of the awning and reappear on the other side a few seconds later. The man with the hat passes by and Hoseok breathes in. He slides down the awning and feels the pull of gravity until he lands between the two grunts and knocks their heads together.

He stumbles a little, letting a breath out as he watches Hyungwon turn around half surprised half annoyed. Hoseok notices the cane sword in his hand, its head in a lion shape. Funnily enough, Hoseok expected another cross.

 

Hyungwon stares unimpressed. “Please tell me they’re not dead.”

  
Hoseok needs to check before he answers with certainty. He looks at the knocked out men for two seconds and nods to the side with a shrug. “They’re not dead.”

  
Hyungwon rolls his eyes and looks up at the awning. “Couldn’t you just show up like a normal person?”

  
“Would you rather I did?”

  
Hyungwon seems to consider, changing the cane from one hand to another and almost missing the handle. He’s clumsy, Hoseok notes. His brain subconsciously notes that one down.

  
“They would probably…” Hyungwon muses.

  
“Freak out a little?”

 

“Exactly. You _have_ been chasing them around London for a few days… I’d be a little paranoid myself, were I in their shoes.”

  
They look between each other, both with guarded expressions. The distance between them however normal making them both feel like they are miles apart.

 

It feels weird, Hoseok thinks, to talk so casually with someone who is supposed to be his sworn enemy. “They are…” he starts, “Very loyal.” And his comment is greeted with a smile.

  
“Thankfully. I don’t pay them to rat me out the moment one of you shows up.”

  
Hoseok nods and takes a deep breath. “So,” he looks towards the river. “Why am I here?”

  
Hyungwon looks at him and beckons his finger. “Right. Follow me.”

  
The sky is now toned in soft colours. It’s the first clear sunrise Hoseok manages to catch ever since arriving in London.

  
He follows Hyungwon in between warehouses, always three steps behind, until they reach a small wood shack near the docked ships. Hyungwon enters first. Hoseok waits before he follows.

 

The shack is filed with crates and shelves stocked with clipped papers and grey books. It smells old, mixed with moss and wet. Hoseok wonders how much of that isn't already rotting, considering how humid the place feels.

  
Hyungwon takes off his silk hat and places it on top of a crate. He side-glances at Hoseok who’s too busy looking around to notice he’s being watched. “I thought you weren’t coming.” Hyungwon says and Hoseok almost misses it.

  
“I was… busy.”

  
Hyungwon chuckles. “I know.”

  
Hoseok rolls his eyes and then jabs a crate with his finger. “Of course you do.”

  
“And? What did you find while you were poking around?”

  
“Nothing,” Hoseok replies with a heavy sigh. “I know you’ve been… acquiring… companies with a bad reputation. All of them seem to have danced in illicit trades. And all seem to be connect with the East India Company.”

 

Hyungwon sits down on a box and crosses his legs. “Not bad.”

  
“Right. Thank you. But why are we here?”

  
“Because it’s quiet.”

  
Hoseok smiles, genuinely this time. Out of the two of them, the only one whom the quiet benefits is him, not Hyungwon. “Well,” he opens his arms in a welcome, “go on.”

“You see,” Hyungwon starts, slowly and carefully, “there are always two sides to a story.”

  
“I’ve heard.”

  
“And I don’t mean you, Assassins, and us, Templars. That’s one stereotype I hope to dispel, in time.” He uncrosses his legs and crosses them again the other way around. “I mean that just because some of us have done despicable things, doesn’t mean our cause isn’t righteous.” He pauses to make sure Hoseok is listening.

  
He is, despite the guarded little smile and the sideways look he’s wearing as if he’s attesting, waiting for Hyungwon to slip up.

 

And Hyungwon goes on. “The Templars’ true goal is to lead and enlighten humanity, to transform the world into a self-sustaining progressive utopia, cleansed of its barbaric nature. The Templars view this idea as paramount, given the fact that humanity was created to serve and be led by the First Civilization in the first place… Well, you know how it goes.”

  
Interesting, considering how they speak about the good of the world to justify their own selfish actions, Hoseok thinks. He tilts his head up. “But you think differently…?”  


Hyungwon laughs. “Not really. Maybe? You’ll be the judge.”

 

“Shoot.”

  
“I agree to an extent. Considering what we know and they, the public, don’t… I do believe people live in the illusion of power. They think they want it, but they run from the responsibility that comes with it. It’s why they’re so quick to fall in line whenever someone takes charge.” A tense shrug, followed by a slight crack in Hyungwon's voice. “They’ll squirm like little fish, complain… but the moment we take matters into our own hands, they will comply.”

  
Hoseok looks to the side. The sudden change, the vulnerability he's unexpectedly sensing is making him feel uncomfortable.

 

“How do you think revolutions start? People believe the power to control fate is theirs but they’re blindly being steered by someone who is using their discontentment.”

  
“Someone like you?” Hoseok asks bitterly.

  
“Maybe. I am, afterall, a man taking matters into his own hands.”

  
“I see. And who decides who is worthy of such… what do I even call it…”

  
Hyungwon sighs. “And you reach the heart of the problem. How am I any different from them? I’m not special. I have status, yes. Of course. But take that away and what am I left with?”

  
“A pretty face in a stupid hat,” Hoseok mumbles.

 

Hyungwon laughs. “ _Ah_ , quite. But do you understand?” His eyes look misty as if he got emotional halfway through his monologue. “There has to be a middle ground, somewhere. And I believe cleansing the world is the way to start. Still, I am only one man. And the world is far too large.”

 

Hoseok takes a deep breath, paces slowly towards the nearest wall of crates and leans as he crosses his arms. “You’re buying corrupt companies to take them off the market…” He says to himself, as it finally clicks in his head.

  
“Yes,” Hyungwon replies. He gestures, “Some end up closing, others I take under my wing. It won’t make the world better. But it will make this city safer.”

  
“So, you’re not actually smuggling tea around town…”

  
“A naive assumption, but no. I am not.”

  
“And what do your peers make of this?”

 

“Well, I haven’t crossed them... _yet_. But I am certain that will change, sooner or later.”

  
“They’ll come for you.”

  
Hyungwon nods. “I can deal with my kind. But I need you to deal with yours. Even though what I’m doing shouldn’t be of any concern, being a Templar immediately marks me red. As if there’s a target on my head.”

 

Hoseok nods, finally understanding. “And that’s why you need my help.”

  
“And why you need mine. Meeting you is the result of a very, very big coincidence that, I am hoping, has a very happy ending.”

  
Hoseok chuckles, then bites his lower lip as he stares at the floor. “You’re very confident, Mr. Templar.”

  
“It’s called bluffing.”

  
“Hm?”

  
Hyungwon scoffs. “What. You really think I wasn’t scared when you showed up in my office in the middle of the night? You looked like a raged dog, waiting to pounce!”

 

“Pou—Pounce?” Hoseok straightens up, obviously offended. “I don’t poun— _Look_.” He stares. “You really need to stop that, whatever it is you’re doing.”

  
“The teasing?”

  
“Yes,” Hoseok grumbles and gestures, “Yes, that. You _don't_ want to test me.”

 

Hyungwon laughs. “I’ll consider your request if you accept my offer.”

  
There’s a moment of silence. And it lasts.

  
Hoseok is thinking and Hyungwon doesn't interrupt.

  
Time passes, and now they can hear the dock workers outside. And by the amount of sunlight that enters the shack through the window, both of them figure they’ve been inside for quite a while.

  
Honestly, Hoseok thinks, there’s not much to consider. He understands where Hyungwon is coming from, even if they have totally different opinions. But Hoseok doesn’t trust him. Plus, he knows this ordeal could turn sour very quickly. What matters, however, is whether it’s all worth the trouble or not.

 

Maybe they do want the same thing. Maybe Hyungwon could be an asset. And maybe Hoseok could make the Assassins see him as such.

  
Nevertheless…

  
“How do I know I can trust you?”

 

Hyungwon smiles. “You don’t. _But_ I believe we can start working on that.” He reaches for the pocket on his waistcoat and brings out a piece of paper. “Take it.”

 

Hoseok reaches for it and snatches it quickly from Hyungwon’s hand, as if he’s afraid the man’s snark will eat him alive if he gets too close. When he looks at what’s drawn in that little sheet, however, Hoseok freezes.

  
“I told you I had what you were looking for.” Hyungwon says, proudly.

  
It’s a necklace. A drawing of a necklace. But Hoseok can tell by the inscriptions all over the medallion that it isn’t just a normal necklace.

  
He looks at Hyungwon and gapes. “Is this…?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“I need to find it!”

  
“And I can help you, if you help me.”

  
Hoseok stops to consider. Then he reconsiders. Then he takes a leap of faith, “Fuck it. _Deal_.”

  
Hyungwon breathes as if he’s somehow relieved. “Thank you, Assassin. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

  
“Hoseok.”

  
“Pardon?”

  
“My name. Shin Hoseok.”

  
Hyungwon blinks. “Thank you, Hoseok.”


	5. Sequence 1, Memory 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine” - The Creed's maxim: Nothing is true; Everything is permitted.
> 
> The Assassin's Creed, often referred to as the Creed, was the code and guiding philosophy of the Assassin Order upheld from the High Middle Ages until the modern era. It restricted unnecessary slaughter of innocents, preserved the reputation of oneself and of the Order, and was meant to create peace not only within the world, but within the individual.

_June, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

 

 _“_ _Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine.”_

 

 

  
A storm welcomes June as the clock ticks towards a new day. But the thunders aren't loud enough to muzzle the shouts that echo through the Assassin’s Headquarters.

“We should storm in there and _kill_ him!” Master Daniel shouts from his side of the table.

  
“Really?” Master Anthony counters. “That’s your solution? We aren’t barbarians, Daniel. And what of your escape plan?”

  
“Escape Plan? When no one's left, walk out the front door.”

  
Anthony throws his head back and groans. “You can’t be serious.”

  
“ _Oh_ , but I am.”

They’d been arguing fervently ever since Hoseok’s return. As predicted, his report hadn’t exactly fallen in good graces. To his surprise, however, Master D’Lewis had been quiet the whole time, watching the other two go at it with Hoseok right in the middle of it.

  
Everyone startles when Daniel slams his fist on the table. “What the hell were you thinking, kid?” He glares at Hoseok and Hoseok glares back. “Next you’ll be telling me you intend to befriend the Templar Grandmaster as well? Do let me know, I can’t wait to slice that pisspot open.”

  
“ _Daniel!_ ” Master Anthony shouts.

  
Hoseok takes a deep but silent breath and holds his tongue. He looks up at the golden chandelier full of candles burnt halfway down and bites the inside of his cheek.

Master D’Lewis glances at the piece of paper in the middle of the table, the drawing Hyungwon had given Hoseok as proof of good faith and takes it between his fingers. “Hoseok”, he finally says, voice hollow of emotion.

  
Hoseok lowers his head and stiffens his body, eyes cast down. “Mentor.”

  
“The Creed’s second tenet. Recite it to me.”

  
His heart jumps in a frenzy. He knows a reprimand when he hears one. “Hide in plain sight.”

  
“And the third?”

  
“Never compromise the Brotherhood.”

  
D’Lewis looks up, eyes unreadable. “Its meaning should be obvious. But I dare ask… _What does it mean?_ ”

Hoseok bites at his lower lip.

“Assassin?”

  
“The actions of one must never bring harm to all…”

  
D’Lewis nods and looks down. “I have to say I am a little disappointed. While I believe you think you did the right thing, I _can’t_ excuse this. You _can’t_ act on your own. _Never_ forget who you report to.”

  
“Yes, Mentor.”

 _Disappointment_ is a strong word. One Hoseok avoids at all costs. And while he knows he’s on the right path, such choice of words makes him feel like he’s failed both himself and his Masters.

  
“Now,” D’Lewis holds the drawing close to his chest, “ _this_ is another issue on its own. One I fear far more than your little walk in the park under the moonlight.” He sighs. “What do you know about it?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok replies.

  
“How did Chae Hyungwon acquire it? Are you aware this is could be the only lead we have to a rumoured Piece of Eden?”

  
“I don’t know. And _yes, I am aware_.”

  
“Tone, Assassin. _Tone_.”

Daniel slams his other hand on the table and Hoseok shudders. “We need to kill this Templar!” He spews. Hoseok is starting to detest the man. “Who knows what else he’s learned?!”

  
“With all due respect, brothers,” Master Anthony interrupts, “I think it is wise to avoid dwelling on past mistakes. Hoseok made a slipup and tried to correct it on his own.” He looks at Hoseok, “ _Another_ slipup that could’ve cost us much. Yet we should be capitalizing on it. Not questioning his judgement.”

D’Lewis agrees, “You are right, brother. Of course.” He looks at Hoseok, “Consider this your first and final warning.”

  
Hoseok bows his head even lower. “Mentor.”

  
Daniel scoffs from the other side of the table. “Unbelievable.”

  
Master Anthony circles towards Hoseok and levels with him. “ _Assassin_. This is your doing. It is your responsibility.” He exchanges a look with Master D’Lewis and goes on after receiving a nod of confirmation. “You are to infiltrate this Templar’s ranks. You will find out what he knows and what he doesn’t know. What is in his reach and what happens beyond him. And you will report back to the Brotherhood once a week.” The Master’s voice takes a darker tone, “If you fail to complete any of these requisites, we will ask you to return your hidden blade to us and you will stay on the side-lines until further notice. If it comes to light you have betrayed us, you shall be excommunicated from the Brotherhood.”

  
_Humiliation_.

Hoseok feels powerless. Crushed by the very beliefs he so dearly respects and tries to live by. And yet, he can’t bring himself to regret his actions. For The Creed and its maximum are a mere observation of the world, not a doctrine to be followed.

  
_Nothing is true; everything is permitted._

 

 

 

 

The main balcony that overlooks the gardens is Hoseok’s favourite place. The storm has subsided, and he takes the opportunity to bathe his face in a breeze fresh air. He’s lost in thought, head hanging between his shoulders like a defeated man, a letter between his hands.

  
The sound of iron blades colliding is stuck in his head. Ghosts of memories. Regrets. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deaths. He’s a million miles away from home and yet everything is the same. Perhaps by the time he is done with his mission, there will be nothing left to return to.

  
“Are you alright?” Master Anthony asks. Hoseok hadn’t seen him arrive. Anthony steps a little closer and sees the letter. “I am sorry for your loss… I have just heard the news.”

No reply. _  
_

He looks up at the clouded sky. Thunder can be heard in the distance. “Today of all days… I am sorry. You should know you will always be welcomed here.”

  
It hurts to swallow. But Hoseok finally speaks. “Unless I do something you don’t like, and you brand me a traitor.”

  
Master Anthony frowns. “Hoseok… You know it’s not that simple.”

  
“I know.”

  
“Then? What’s on your mind?”

  
Hoseok laughs and sniffles in a runny nose. “Permission to speak candidly, Master.”

  
Anthony turns around and slowly closes the door to the balcony. “Granted.”

Hoseok takes in a shaky breath. “Five years ago, I stood on the tallest mountain, looking over the most beautiful temple the Brotherhood ever laid hands on as the Templars defiled it in search of a lie. I watched as many of my brothers died for a cause they believed in. It was…” He laughs to hold back the tears. “A massacre. My mind was clouded by vengeance. More than any of you _I know_ what the Templars are capable of.” The letter starts to crumple in his hands. “I thought I had the right to get my revenge. And I had The Creed on my side.” He pauses. “But I was wrong.”

“What changed your mind?” Anthony asks, voice soft, like Hoseok has never heard from him before.

  
“I met Son Hyunwoo.”

  
“Master Hyunwoo?”

“I told him my story. And you know what he said?” Hoseok chuckles as the memories return to him. “He said: _Our Creed does not command us to be free. It commands us to be wise_.” He smiles. “I was stupid back then. I didn’t understand what he meant. But I do now…. I guess I’m a little late…”

Some lightning flashes nearby.

  
“He would’ve have been proud of you.”

  
A thunder follows.

“What I’m trying to tell you is… To say that nothing is true, is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile, and that we must be the shepherds of our own civilization. To say that everything is permitted, is to understand that we are the architects of our actions, and that we must live with their consequences, whether glorious or tragic.” Hoseok raises his head and turns to look at Master Anthony. “So, no. I don’t regret my actions. I made a mistake that put me on the right path. And I trust myself enough to know I would never compromise the Brotherhood. But thank you,” he smirks, “It’s always nice to be reminded how the Brotherhood’s pep talk is humiliating no matter where you go.”

Master Anthony smiles. “I have a mission of my own. And I have a duty towards all of you. But should you ever need an ally, you shall find one in me.” He lowers his head, much to Hoseok’s surprise. “I would be honoured to stand for such honesty.”

  
Hoseok bows his head back in respect. “Thank you, Master.”

“No. Thank _you_ , for speaking your mind. I’m glad they sent you. Had your name been on that letter too then today would have been a real loss for the Brotherhood.”

  
“Likewise.”


	6. Sequence 2, Memory 1

_June, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

 

_“How naive to believe that there might be a single answer to every question.”_

 

 

  
There is no single path through life that's right and fair and does no harm. Yet, Hyungwon can’t stop wondering about why he has a whole two months’ worth of letters to read today. He’s been in his office for so long he feels like he’s wearing a corset.

  
“Mathew,” he calls to the man standing right beside his desk, “open a window. I’m dying.”

  
“Such exaggerations will get you nowhere, Sir.”

Hyungwon rolls his eyes. “Mathew, could you _please_ open a window. It feels unbearably hot in here.”

  
Old Mathew smiles and bows his head before he does what has been asked of him.

Hyungwon takes another letter from the pile and sighs. He recognizes the sender. They’re most likely inviting him to another Presentation at Court. Hyungwon knows there’s a whole law of primogeniture behind the letter. He’s been going to Court every year and every year he walks out without a wife-to-be. People should have given up on him by now, but he has money and a whole status his father left him the day he died. So, even if people talk behind his back, they certainly want what he has. If only to later poison his dinner and inherit his whole fortune.

  
Someone knocks at the door and Hyungwon doesn’t even raise his head, already expecting someone to walk in with another basket of letters for him to read. Had he been neglecting bureaucracy this much?

  
Of course, Mathew, the honourable butler, moves to open the door and Hyungwon is already pinching at his nose bridge, feeling the upcoming headache.

  
The moment Mathew opens the door, an air current washes the claustrophobic atmosphere that had been growing inside the office throughout the day. The curtains flutter and Hyungwon looks out at the sky.

Sunny.

  
No wonder he’s feeling particularly overdressed today.

  
“Sir,” Mathew starts after exchanging a few brief words with a houseworker, “there’s a man at the door claiming he has an appointment with you.”

Hyungwon’s brain slaps the rest of his body awake and he raises his head. “Who?”

  
Mathew looks at the houseworker who replies in his stead, “I am afraid I can’t pronounce his name correctly, Sir. _Oh_ , I meant no disrespect,” her face is getting redder and redder.

Hyungwon smiles, “Don’t worry. Let him in.”

  
The maid only has a few seconds to bow before Mathew closes the door. “Is this wise, Sir?” He straightens up, hands behind his back. “Not that I presume to know the intentions of my betters, but perhaps you should reconsider this coalition…”

  
Hyungwon fixes the mess on his desk with one hand and scratches his eyebrow with the other. “And where’s the question, Mathew?”

  
The butler bows in respect and then waits for the knock at the door.

  
It’s the first time Hyungwon sees Hoseok without his hood on. Hyungwon realizes the Assassin has quite the puppy face for someone whose job involves killing, stealing and who knows what else.

Black leather clinging to his body, Hoseok enters the room, towering over Mathew who can’t help but glare. It's amusing how little Hoseok seems to care, considering how he ignores the already fuming butler Hyungwon has to will away with a hand flick.

Suddenly, all is silent and they’re alone.

  
Hoseok looks around the room, eyebrows raised. “Looks quite different during the day,” he states. “Can’t say I like it.”

  
“Too much for the soul of a commoner?” Hyungwon asks, hand offering the chair on the other side of his desk.

  
This time, Hoseok takes the suggestion. He sits down half sliding down the chair, legs far too open to be considered socially correct in this day and age.

  
Hyungwon arches an eyebrow and looks the man up and down. “Comfortable?”

  
Hoseok shrugs. “Depends. How much did you pay for this chair?”

 

“Don’t worry, it was only slightly more expensive than the one you broke.”

  
“Oh, wow,” Hoseok leans from one side to the other to look at the chair’s legs. “It’s… very comfortable. I could take a nap here.” He says, making the chair creak on purpose.”

“I’m glad you approve.”

  
Hoseok loosely crosses his legs, “I do. I do. But that’s not the reason why you had me called here, is it?”

  
Hyungwon leans back and crosses his arms. “Why not? Maybe I just contacted you because I wanted to show you my new expensive chair.”

  
Hoseok smiles and stares.

  
Hyungwon stares back but somehow gives up not even three seconds later. He reaches for one of the open drawers on his desk and brings out a handful of papers. “There’s something I need you to do.”

  
“And that is...?”

“There’s a factory not very far from here. In a straight line just across the river, actually. Emmanuel’s. And the owner, well… He is…” Hyungwon licks his lips and scoffs, “Pardon my language but he is a pain in ass.”

  
“Is he giving you trouble?”

  
“He has no vision!” Hyungwon says dramatically. “ _First_ I told him I wanted to buy half the business. I told him I could help him improve production efficiency by at least 3%. And he refused. Told me he wasn’t going to be cutting profits fifty-fifty. _Then_ I told him I would buy the whole thing, with a little extra in his wallet because I am a generous man. And! He refused.”

  
“Wow,” Hoseok mocks, shaking his head, “Such an asshole.”

  
“This is serious.”

  
“For you, maybe. But I don’t get what you want me to do about it.”

“Well,” Hyungwon leans over the desk, “I thought you could… I don’t know, get rid of him? If it’s you and people see you doing it, then no one will be suspicious when I finally acquire the whole business. If anything, they’ll think you killed him because he was one of us.”

“You want me to kill him?”

  
“Well, I… that’s up to you. I just want him gone.”

  
Hoseok is silent for a few seconds. Then he crosses his arms and shakes head. “Naaah, no.”

  
“What? Why not?”

  
“Is that what you think I am here for? To help you build your little empire?” He raises an eyebrow and then looks outside, looking quite disappointed. “No. Chat up a mercenary if you want someone to help you with your little imperialist desires.”

  
Hyungwon feels a little confused and it’s showing. Takes him a lot of silent minutes to realize he might have taken the wrong approach. He cares, _deeply_. But he’s not very good at showing it. Plus, sometimes his priorities tend to get messed up considering the kind of people he surrounds himself with.

He fishes for one of the papers he’d previously taken out of the drawer and slides it across the table, catching Hoseok’s eye. They exchange a heavy look in which Hyungwon’s looks a little pleading as if he's apologizing.

  
Hoseok reaches for the paper. “What is this?” He asks.

  
“Accountability.” Hyungwon replies.

  
Hoseok uncrosses his legs and leans forward, eyebrows almost knitting together in a scowl. “Please tell me this is not what I think it is.”

  
Hyungwon sighs. Of course he should’ve started with that. “Yes. Child labour. I am _this_ close to call it child slavery, at this point.”

 

Hoseok looks up at him. “Why didn’t say so from the start?”

  
“Priorities.” Hyungwon says and goes on when Hoseok glares at him, “It happens when everything in your life is nothing but numbers. People too.”

  
“Is that what you see when you look at me?”

Hyungwon is a little surprised with the question. He quickly launches a stare towards Hoseok, but he’s not looking back. He’s staring at the paper. And Hyungwon doesn’t know what his reply is supposed to sound like. If he’s being honest then the right answer would have to be yes. But now that the question is up and about, the answer is starting to turn into a no.

  
“Will you help me?” He asks instead in an attempt to change the conversation.

  
Hoseok breathes in and then out. “Depends. What will happen to these children?”

  
“Well, I _obviously_ don’t want them there.” Hyungwon says with indignation. “Going to the authorities might not be a good idea… I was hoping you’d know what to do about that.”

Hoseok stares at the sheet for a few seconds, foot tapping on the floor in a steady rhythm. He bites at his lower lip and Hyungwon can almost see the wheels of his brain spinning and fuming.

  
_He’s going to agree_ , Hyungwon thinks. And is, once again, taken aback by his own ability to predict people with such ease.

  
Suddenly, Hoseok gets up and the very expensive chair almost bounces all the way back towards the floor if he hadn’t quickly reached for it. “Very well.” He throws the paper over the table and looks at Hyungwon. “I have an idea. But I’m afraid you’re not going to like it.”

  
At first Hyungwon pretends to be shocked. “Wait. Wait. You’re going to help?” But then Hoseok’s words hit the thick walls of his brain and Hyungwon can feel the sudden kick his anxiety gives him. “What’s this idea of yours?”

  
Hoseok smirks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying this fic. It is a challenge to write, considering how much research I have to do every time I start a new chapter, but it's fun and I've been learning a lot as well.
> 
> Sequence 2 will be all from Hyungwon's pov. It will also be a little heavier.
> 
> Anyway, take care <3


	7. Sequence 2, Memory 2

_June, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

 

_“I am but a piece, a man with a part to play.”_

 

 

  
Every other week, new factories employing hundreds of people, including many small children, whose nimble hands make light-work of spinning, sprout out of the earth like a plague.

  
Many factories are dismal and highly dangerous, often likened to prisons, where workers encounter harsh discipline enforced by factory owners.

  
Numerous children are sent there from workhouses or orphanages to work long hours in hot, dusty conditions, and are forced to crawl through narrow spaces between fast-moving machinery.

  
A working day of twelve hours is not uncommon, and accidents happened frequently.

  
It’s not pleasant to watch when a heavy iron plate slips from the first floor and comes crashing down right on top a young boy’s legs.

  
The boy screams in agony, a shriek the likes of which Hyungwon has never heard before. He’s right there, by the front gate, and he’s already gripping the handle of his cane sword. Turning around and leaving would be easy. And if he’s honest, he can’t deny that there are voices in his head telling him to get out of there as fast as possible and _forget_.

 

“That could have been you,” Hoseok whispers next him. “That’s what status gets you. Expensive chairs and the ability to look at life as if it is a simple equation.” A slight breeze dances in a little whirling between them, making the dust levitate around their feet. “The only numbers these people count is the number of days they’ve lived so far.”

  
Hyungwon casts his eyes down. “Trying to shock me, are you?”

  
Hoseok smiles small and glances at him. “Just trying to show you my perspective. Not as prim and proper as sitting by a desk and looking at mere numbers.” He turns his back towards the entrance and crosses his arms. “You walk your own grounds, but you’re principled. This doesn’t happen where you come from. But here? It’s a nightmare away from turning into something much worse. So, next time, consider the people you’re saving _first_. Not how to capitalize on their misery but how to make their lives better.” He looks up at the factory over his shoulder. “Getting rich should be a side benefit. Not a priority.”

 

Hyungwon realizes he’s been staring and hardly listening when Hoseok looks back at him, eyes questioning, looking for an answer of some kind.

  
Part of him, the part that looks at this strange Assassin as nothing but an asset, wants to disagree. Naivety doesn’t rule the world. It never did, and it never will. But Hyungwon knows, even if only half-heartedly, that Hoseok is right. And the rest of him, the part that isn’t a ruthless realist, is glad that he finally found someone willing to show him this side of the world.

  
When he doesn’t get an answer, Hoseok sighs and pulls his hood on. “Just out of curiosity,” He starts, “what are planning to turn this place into?”

  
“A canned fish factory,” Hyungwon replies absentmindedly, too lost in his own thoughts to explain unless questioned.

  
And Hoseok questions. “A canned fish factory?” His tone sounds judgemental.  
  
  
“It’s a cheap way to feed people and for me to make good profit.”

 

Hoseok scoffs. “Will you ever do something just for the sake of doing it? I just told you—”

  
“I know!” Hyungwon raises his voice and regrets it the next second. “ _I know_. And I heard you. Now, let’s get this over with. What am I doing here?”

  
“What do you mean?” Hoseok smirks. “You’re here to buy this factory and save these people.”

  
Hyungwon frowns. “What? Look. Did you not hear me back at—What are you even—Seriously, my brain can’t keep up. Please, explain.”

  
Hoseok chuckles and turns slightly towards the factory. “Well, Mr. Templar Smarty Pants has come in person to make the deal himself. Who would’ve thought the Assassins had been tipped off about this arrangement and decided to—”

  
“Kill two birds with one stone,” Hyungwon completes, nodding as he finally understands the plan.

 

“I have no idea what that means, but sure.”

  
“If I can get my hands on the ownership papers I can make a scandal and claim them as my own.”

  
Hoseok shrugs, “You’re the politician.”

  
Hyungwon nods. “Right. And _you?_ ”

  
“I should be on my way up,” Hoseok replies pointing towards the top of the factory. “I hate my life,” he whispers to himself in between a chuckle.

 

Hyungwon squints his eyes and sees the open window Hoseok probably intends to use as an entrance. “That’s… tall. Are you certain?” He pauses. “What are you going to do?”

  
“Releasing the children is my priority. Then, well, to quote a brother of mine, I will just walk out the front door. Whoever wants to stop me is welcomed to try.”

“I still think we should’ve planned this better.”

  
Hoseok gives a quick pat over Hyungwon’s shoulder and starts making his way towards the side of the building. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it works.” He looks at Hyungwon over his shoulder. “Now get going!”

 

When he'd imagined how today was going to play out, Hyungwon certainly hadn't thought he would have to do this himself. He always works with intermediaries, this is the first time he’s getting his hands dirty.

  
“What a troublesome investment,” he mutters to himself.

  
Hyungwon takes a deep breath and forces his back to stand straight. He walks towards the entrance and is received with hot steam coming out of the working machines, topped with a few glares from the guards.

  
The conditions these people are working in are below what Hyungwon considers to be sanitary. And he’s being benevolent in his judgement, considering he’s giving the place a discount for being a coal factory.

  
Black, big ovens cover both the right and left walls inside the building. In the middle, a corridor that leads to a staircase. There is no way to distinguish the old blood stains on the floor from the black dust that clings to clothes, hair, stone, even iron. But Hyungwon knows, on a hunch, that a lot of people have bleed their lives out in there.

 

It’s not until he goes up the stairs and reaches the first floor that he realizes how many children that ugly, ugly man has working under him in horrible, horrible conditions. Some of them don’t look older than 8 years old. Others are chained to the machines.

  
The boy who had gotten hurt is nowhere to be found.

  
Child labour is not an invention of the Industrial Revolution, but it is certainly a fuelling factor. A problem that must be tackled, indeed. But at what cost? Their current enemy is not a person but a notion. A mindset that must be changed.

 

“ _Well, well, well._ Look who it is!” A man, fat with it, raises his arms in a fake welcome the moment he sees Hyungwon. “Didn’t expect the man himself to show up!”

  
Hyungwon fakes a laugh. “Mr. Fort,” he greets, “I’m surprised you recognized me. I thought _all Asians looked the same_.”

  
Mr. Emmanuel Fort extends his arm and almost pulls Hyungwon’s off when they shake hands. “None of them dress as expensively as you, Sir.”

  
“Right you are, Mr. Fort. Right you are.”

  
Hyungwon can’t help but notice the way the man slides his hand over his fat belly, probably attempting to clean off any germs he might have caught when they shook hands.

  
Hyungwon is used to stares and whispers but upfront disrespect is something only a few people manage to pull off.

  
He really can’t wait for this day to be over.

  
“So,” Mr. Fort asks as he guides Hyungwon towards the small room located at the farthest end of the first floor. “What brings you here today?”

  
“Well,” Hyungwon starts as he avoids staring at the children around them, “if I’m allowed to skip the small talk, I think we both know why I am here.”

 

“You want this factory.”

  
“Indeed. It’s amazing what you’ve accomplish in so little time, Mr. Fort. A factory complex of this size seems like a tremendous investment. But, certainly, one that pays off over time if one knows how to do things.”

  
Mr. Fort laughs in his own self-worth. “Oh, well, yes, of course. Yes, it was no easy feat.”

  
“Which is why,” Hyungwon says slyly, “I would be more than happy to overcompensate should you decide to do business with me.”

  
They reach the small office and Mr. Fort walks in first. Hyungwon follows in a few steps behind.

  
He wonders about Hoseok, hoping the Assassin hasn’t abandoned him to wolves.

  
_Trust must go both ways_ , he thinks.

 

Mr. Fort sits in one of the chairs available but doesn’t invite Hyungwon to sit with him. Another show of disrespect and outright racism. “Well,” he starts, “don’t take this the wrong way, considering you came all the way here on your own this time, but I'm not interested in doing business with you or anyone else.”

  
Of course not, Hyungwon muses. The man is sitting on a throne no one can courtly take away from him. And Hyungwon doesn’t have enough political status to make such bold request to his higher ups. Especially when he already seems to have enough of his own.

  
He feels his insides twist in anger. Part of him is jealous of how much power this man, who is a few social ranks beneath him, has in his hands. But, overall, Hyungwon feels disgusted.

  
“Understandable,” he says curtly, “It’s quite the kingdom. I would be reluctant to part with it, as well.”

  
Mr. Fort smiles evilly. “Well, you’ve got quite the little empire yourself, don’t you? Do you know what we call you? _The Conqueror_. It’s astonishing how many businesses you’ve managed to close in just a few months.”

  
Hyungwon bows his head slightly and smiles. “I shall take the name with pride. It is no small accomplishment. I am, after all, a man with vision.” _Something you clearly lack_ , he finishes in his head.

  
A loud sound calls their attention towards the balcony that overviews the entire first and lower floors, but they see nothing out of the ordinary.

 

Hyungwon takes the chance to gaze around the office. Someone as proud as Emmanuel Fort would have the ownership papers displayed somewhere. Therefore, Hyungwon is not surprised when he looks at the wall behind Mr. Fort.

  
_There they are._ All three of them.

  
All he needs is to sign those papers and slam the factory’s seal on top. However, the seal is probably the hardest to acquire, considering it sits comfortably in Mr. Fort’s finger.

  
“Well,” Mr. Fort starts, “I guess we’re both—” but he’s interrupted by an even louder mechanical screech. “What the hell.” The man gets up and steps towards the balcony. He sees what Hyungwon sees: all machines have come to a full stop.

  
Mr. Fort enters a monochordist rampage as he walks out of the office and makes his way downstairs.

  
Hyungwon doesn’t even think twice. He rushes towards the wall and yanks the ownership papers out.

  
Step one, done. Maybe Hoseok can help with step two, if he’s still around.

  
As he makes his way down the stairs, Hyungwon notices some of the children are gone. The few that are left are exchanging a few confused looks.

 

Mr. Fort is still shouting, “What are you saying, man!?” He spits at one of the older workers.

  
“I—It wasn’t us!” The tanned man replies, “Someone upstairs started the emergency shut down.”

  
“What?” Mr. Fort is now as red as a tomato. “Upstairs? My son is upstairs! He should—”

  
Another loud sound, though this time it’s the sound of a body hitting the floor with a hooded figure crawling over it in a predatory way.

  
Mr. Fort looks at the hooded man and then up at where he and the corpse could have fallen from. “Who the hell are you!?” He asks so loudly that his voice cracks.

  
“The sanitary inspector,” Hoseok mocks as he rises to both feet and takes a step closer.

  
“ _What!_ ”

  
“And _look_ , this man is dead.”

  
There’s no time for chit chat. The few personal guards Mr. Fort had by the entrance are already launching themselves at Hoseok.

 

Hyungwon watches as the Assassin takes them down one by one, jumping to kick a man in his chest and using him a leverage to turn his own body around and slam his fist right into another’s face.

  
One of the guards has a pistol but Hoseok is already on him before he can shoot, slapping his wrist up and taking the pistol from his hands. Then, Hoseok turns around and aims at the guard opposite from them. He takes the shot and hits the man in the leg.

  
Mr. Fort turns around in a frenzy as the last of the guards bars the way between his employer and the Assassin. But Hoseok is quick to punch the guard in the gut before rolling over him and reaching out to grab the back of Mr. Fort’s jacket.

  
Hyungwon has to take a few steps back when Mr. Fort lands right in front of him. Sweating, scared for his life, the man starts climbing the rest of the stairs in all fours. He falls flat again when Hoseok jumps and lands over him, knee to the man’s back, hidden blade digging in his neck.

  
Blood stains the wooden stairs.

  
Hyungwon is struck with the sudden realization that this is the first time he’s seen Hoseok take someone’s life. He’s wearing the blankest expression Hyungwon has ever seen on him, and there’s a strange glint to his eyes. A focus so strong Hyungwon is starting to feel it: _fear_.

  
The children are screaming, some are passing them by as they run down the stairs. The older workers seem to be abandoning the factory as well. And, in an attempt to make everything a little more theatrical, Hoseok rises to both feet and closes the distance between him and Hyungwon, raising the hidden blade towards Hyungwon’s neck.

  
The tip of the blade lightly tickles Hyungwon's skin as blood stains the white scarf around his neck. Not his blood, no. But the blood of the people Hoseok had slain today.

  
Hyungwon can’t see the Assassin’s eyes, hooded as they are, but he can feel his aura.

  
There are no words. Only the realization that, maybe, one day, this moment, this hooded face, could very much be the last thing Hyungwon sees before the darkness.

  
Yes, and he can see it in his eyes when Hoseok finally raises his head. He understands that look. It’s telling him what Hyungwon already knows: _don’t take me for granted._

But then it’s over. Hoseok smiles a little as the hidden blade withdraws back into the bracer on his wrist. And he’s already turning away before Hyungwon’s brain registers what is going on.

  
It's faint and it passes quickly, but somehow Hyungwon swears he hears Hoseok call his name in an attempt to slap him back to reality. He doesn't know if he dreamed it or if it's real, either way it has a strange ring to it.

 

 

 

 

The sun is setting.

  
Hyungwon watches as the police frets about the huge murder scene inside Emmanuel’s. He’s feeling slightly numb, considering what he’s been through today. Prying a ring out of a dead man’s finger is certainly an image that is going to return every night to haunt him for the next few weeks.

  
But at least there he is, sealed papers in hand, looking at his brand-new acquisition: a factory complex with a terrible murder story. And he is totally going to use such story in his favour. Now, all he needs is to authenticate the papers and he can get to work.

  
He’s distracted and doesn’t notice the little girl right next to him until she yanks at his coat.

  
She is holding a little white flower, “Thank you, Sir. You saved us. Thank you for buying the big house!” She takes Hyungwon’s hand and places the flower in his palm before shyly running back towards the group of kids by the other side of the street.

  
Hyungwon stares at the flower. Then, he looks at the kids.

  
Hoseok is with them and he’s looking back.

  
They stare. Hoseok nods in recognition and turns as someone else joins them. A nun. She takes the smallest child in her arms and smiles. Hoseok seems to smile back. There are children playing around his leather coat and he doesn’t seem to mind.

  
Hyungwon knows those children aren’t safe. Not yet. But as he tucks the little flower in his pocket he realizes that there is some purity left in the world and that some things are definitely worth fighting for, even if in the end he doesn’t benefit from them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, at some point Hoseok will have to teach Hyungwon about the science of fighting. I mean, Hyungwon has a cane-sword but he doesn't use it. It is mainly decorative. What a waste...


	8. Sequence 2, Memory 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!!!!!!!  
> This chapter makes slight allusions to suicidal thoughts (first three paragraphs after the time-skip). Skip those if you need to. The paragraph right after is explanatory without needing the first three.
> 
> Please, take care. Go listen to "Livin'It Up", Monsta's new single, if you're feeling down. It's great and full of energy!
> 
>  
> 
> The Carrols - The Carroll family was a wealthy British family and prominent members of the Templar Order. They were known as a stanchly conservative family that despised any sort of change.
> 
> (Elizabeth Starrick - An Easter Egg I've added for those who've played AC: Syndicate. She's like bad-guy's grandmother or something. I gotta have my fun, alright?)

_June, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

 

_“I am only a conduit for a message that eludes my understanding.”_

 

 

 

Contrary to what their name implies, the Templars have no ties to the church. And while some might be deeply religious, The Order itself is agnostic. Yet, Hyungwon can’t help but pass ill judgements at how ominous their meeting places look every single time.

  
_Just like a cult_ , he thinks.

  
Whoever thought meeting by the church next to the graveyard was a good idea probably needs to rethink their life. And, coincidence or not, the wind howls only to confirm Hyungwon’s judgement.

  
_Crazed idiots._

  
He looks up at the nearly blackened sky and sees the clouds moving.

  
June is ending, and a new season is about to begin.

  
It’s been the busiest month yet. Hyungwon has done nothing but bureaucracy work for the past few weeks. And _now_ he has a lot more taxes to pay and a whole factory complex to renovate.

  
True to his word, Hoseok has been helping from the shadows. With the crime rate in London rising in the charts and breaking a new record every other week, it’s nice to know there is someone watching over the dirty part of the business.

   
Goods need to be delivered, papers need to be traded, deals need to be made, and all has been running smoothly.

  
And, if this ominous meeting Hyungwon is waiting for goes his way, he might leave with a little more information on the Piece of Eden Hoseok so desperately needs to find.

  
He rolls his eyes at the thought.

  
_The Pieces of Eden…_

  
Hyungwon never really understood the strange fixation everyone has with them. They’re a powerful, unknown variable in his calculus, and Hyungwon would prefer to know what he’s dealing with rather than pretend he can see the future with an Apple that might also turn him to ashes the next second.

  
A strong air current washes the dirt at his feet and Hyungwon looks at the fluttering cloaks in front of him. The number of hooded two-legged-bats has increased twofold. He’s probably the only one not wearing a black cloak. It would be of very poor taste considering his newly acquired toy—Hoseok.

  
If he’s honest, Hyungwon will admit he likes the man. Weird as it might sound, Hoseok is good company. Certainly, he kills people for a living and has a heart far to big for the burden he carries. But that is precisely what Hyungwon finds interesting: the duality; the irony. Plus, an Assassin is a forbidden dalliance in the Templars’ book, and that feels exhilarating. Even if their involvement is nothing but good business, there’s a certain romanticism underlining the corners every time they meet.

  
A Templar and an Assassin, the sun and the moon.

  
_Poetry is funny._

  
Suddenly, someone opens the door to the church from the inside and everyone turns to look. The man they see is tall, broad shoulders that fill his cloak like no one else can.

  
_A puppet_ , Hyungwon thinks.

  
After the Carrols, someone had to step in and take charge of the British Rite, and this man has charisma. But Hyungwon can’t help but feel the new Grandmaster is but a man in a play much bigger than himself, paving the way for what’s coming.

  
Everyone enters the church and Hyungwon follows. There’s an oval table at the centre, extending from one side to the other, encircle by a bunch of small chairs.

  
People take their seats, even if designated by rank, methodically and quickly with the Grandmaster at the head.

  
The woman sitting next to Hyungwon smiles at him.

  
He knows her. Or at least he’s heard of her.

  
“Mrs. Starrick. Elizabeth Starrick,” she greets.

  
“Chae Hyungwon.”

  
“A pleasure. I’ve heard much.”

  
Everyone is talking in whispers. _Snakes_ , the lot of them, Hyungwon thinks. But then the Grandmaster raises both hands and they’re met with their own echoes the moment they silence themselves.

  
“Uphold the principles of our order,” the Grandmaster speaks.

  
_“And all that for which we stand.”_ Everyone replies in unison.

  
“Never share our secrets nor divulge in the true nature of our work.”

  
_“Never share our secrets nor divulge in the true nature of our work.”_

  
“Do so until death…”

  
_“Whatever the cost.”_

  
“May the Father of Understanding guide us all.”

  
_“May the Father of Understanding guide us.”_

  
The church trembles as if shaken by heresy.

  
The Grandmaster takes his seat and the talks commence.

 

 

 

  
Hyungwon leans over the stone rail of his balcony and looks down at the street. The ground seems to call for him as if it’s hungry for flesh. He can feel his vision tunnelling, as if his body wants to give in.

  
He smiles.

  
It would be easy to let go, to end everything right there. He has thought about it many, many times. Usually once a season, after he returns from the Right’s meetings. Of course, it’s all an illusion. Like a fever while his body fights the brainwash he’s received.

  
Hyungwon considers himself strong. But it’s not easy to be as principled as he is while being part of an Order that preaches obedience. He agrees, of course, that order, purpose and direction are key in the construction of a perfect world. But while he would try to influence people to have discipline and restraint, as well as opting for tighter and more centralized governmental control, the others would aim at nothing less than the destruction of free will, and absolute control over humanity.

  
He doesn’t blame them for their fanatism, but he knows it’s the wrong way to go about it.

  
The wind howls.

  
A soft rustle gets Hyungwon’s attention and he turns to look.

  
“Hey,” Hoseok says from the shadows.

  
“Hey.”

  
“Contemplating life?”

  
Hyungwon chuckles. “Today? Definitely.”

  
Hoseok walks towards him, face coming to light. He looks a little sad. Or at least melancholic. “Bad day?”

  
Hyungwon turns towards the street again once Hoseok joins him.

  
Both lean over the rail. Not looking down, _no_. Looking ahead.

  
“Not a bad day…” Hyungwon starts. “Just… complicated.”

  
“Same.”

  
The wind howls once more, but this time it doesn’t stop. The air whirlwinds between them making their bangs slap their foreheads. Hyungwon finds it uncomfortable and struggles to get his hair out of his face. But Hoseok seems to enjoy it, closing his eyes and smiling as the breezes washes his skin.

  
Hyungwon stares at him. Then, he dares ask, “Went back home to report to mom and dad?”

  
Hoseok laughs but doesn’t open his eyes when he replies, “So, you know…”

  
“I figured.”

  
“I’m grounded. I don’t really have a choice… Plus, we don’t have anything to hide.”

  
“There’s _always_ a choice.”

  
Hoseok opens his eyes and smiles at the horizon. “That’s very Assassin of you.”

  
“Is it? I don’t know. For a group always preaching about free will your people certainly enjoy castrating each other.”

  
“ _Ah_ , yes.” Hoseok nods. “The three ironies.”

  
“The what?”

  
Hoseok takes a deep breath and turns to face Hyungwon. He throws his arm over the rail, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes rolling when he starts, “We seek to promote peace, but commit murder. We seek to open the minds of men but require obedience to rules. And we seek to reveal the danger of blind faith yet practice it ourselves.”

  
Hyungwon raises both eyebrows in disbelief. “How do you even—”

  
Hoseok throws his head back and laughs. It’s quick, silly and dumb and Hyungwon finds it funny so he can’t help but laugh a little as well.

  
“Well, though seemingly duplicitous,” Hoseok explains, “the ironies do not undermine the Assassins' cause. Rather, they demonstrate the way in which we embrace contradiction, _that one may be two things – opposite in every way – simultaneously_.”

  
Hyungwon finds that beautiful. But he doesn’t say it out loud.

  
Maybe the Assassins and the Templars do have a lot to learn from each other. If only more people could realize the benefits of an alliance…

  
“Thank you,” he says instead. “I think I feel a little better now,” If only more confident with his recent decisions.

  
Hoseok bites at his lower lip and looks at the landscape filled with buildings. “You’re welcome.”

  
“Is it hard?” Hyungwon asks. “You being an Assassin and me being a Templar… is it hard for you?”

  
“Nah… Frustrating? Yes.”

  
Hyungwon smiles. “I see. Then you don’t regret it, do you? Our partnership.”

  
Hoseok raises an eyebrow and hums. “Depends… do you have something for me today?”

  
“ _Yes_ , I have something for you.”

  
He chuckles and turns towards Hyungwon again. “Nice, I like this part. Go on.”

  
“Well, the drawing I gave you came with a list.”

  
“A list?”

  
Hyungwon nods. “Names. I made some inquiries today at the gathering and—”

  
“Uh! A Templar gathering…” Hoseok mocks. Hyungwon is beginning to hate how comfortable their conversations are starting to feel.

  
“Shut up! I am speaking, don’t be rude. Anyway, the names… I asked around. You’d think at least one of the people listed would be a Templar, but that isn’t the case.”

  
Hoseok shakes his head. “Wait. How did you even acquire the drawing and the list in the first place?”

  
“My father. I was going through his belongings when I found them.”

  
“And you hid it from the Templars because…?”

  
Because _this_ is what killed Hyungwon's father. An endless search for an artifact that could very well not exist at all. Because people want it all, full of ideals to the core. And ideals too easily give way to dogma. Then, dogma becomes fanaticism.

  
He knows no higher power sits in judgement. No supreme being watches to punish everyone for their sins. In the end, only oneself can guard against his own obsessions.

  
He searches Hoseok’s eyes but doesn’t find the answer he’s looking for. All he sees is passion. “Because I was afraid they’d look at me the same way you do whenever we speak of this.” He tilts his head. “Hoseok… are you certain you want to pursue this?”

  
Hoseok turns his head away and glares at the distance. He taps his finger on the rail, probably annoyed. A few seconds pass before he finally replies. “ _Hyungwon_ ,” there it is, the way Hoseok speaks his name feels strange, foreigner, “this why I came here. _This_. Nothing else.”

  
“Alright, alright. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  
“Why? Worried about me?”

  
Hyungwon frowns. “Don’t forget you’re an investment too.”

  
“ _Of course_. Now, go on.”

  
There’s a headache threatening at the back of his head and Hyungwon knows it has a name. “A branch from The Order was trying to find this artefact but everything was very hush-hush. My father was overseeing the whole operation. But after his passing a lot of records were lost. I got my hands on whatever I could find and I don’t think the others suspect I’ve acquired this much.” He pauses. “Most of the names on that list belong to dead Assassins. Yes, your people.”

  
Hoseok nods silently. “And the rest?”

  
“Dead politicians.”

  
“Dead as in murdered?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“So, the Assassins had the artefact in their possession at some point…”

  
“One would assume that, yes. But there's something else.” Hyungwon pulls the list out of his waistcoat's pocket and gives it to Hoseok. “These initials... K.C.E. I have no idea who that is supposed to be. And to be the first name listed, underlined, he must have been important.”

  
Hoseok straightens up very suddenly and, using his hand as leverage, jumps over the stone railing and turns just in time to hang himself to it. “I have to go,” he mutters as quickly as he starts making his way down the building, landing quietly on the ground just two seconds later.

  
Hyungwon stares, groggy, eyelids fluttering in tiredness, until Hoseok disappears in the shadows. “You’re welcome,” he tells the darkness.

  
The headache grows, and it has name: _worry_.


	9. Sequence 2, Memory 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheonmin - the lowest caste of commoners in dynastical Korea. They abounded during the Goryeo (918–1392) and Joseon (1392–1897) periods of Korea's agrarian bureaucracy.
> 
> 1592 (Korea) - The Japanese invasion of Korea begins under the command of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, a Templar agent.
> 
> 1642-1651 (England) - English Civil War; a series of armed conflicts and political machinations between Parliamentarians ("Roundheads") and Royalists ("Cavaliers") over, principally, the manner of England's governance.
> 
> 1649 (England) - Charles II's father, Charles I, is executed at Whitehall; England enters the period known as the English Interregnum or the English Commonwealth, and the country is a de facto republic, led by Oliver Cromwell.
> 
> 1649 (England) - With Oliver Cromwell in power, the Templars gain access to the political monopoly of England.
> 
> 1655 (England) - The Assassins make an official stand for the return of the monarchy.
> 
> 1660 (England) - Restoration; Charles II is proclaimed king.
> 
> 1661 (England) - Charles II joins the Assassins.
> 
> Charles II of England - one of the most popular and beloved kings of England, known as the Merry Monarch, in reference to both the liveliness and hedonism of his court and the general relief at the return to normality after over a decade of rule by Cromwell and the Puritans.

_July, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

 

_“I want to understand, like you do. To help my people.”_

 

 

 

There are many ways to start a day. But when Hoseok somersaults inside Hyungwon’s office, the latter almost sends his desk flying across the room. Mathew, the butler, seems ready to throw himself at Hoseok and push him back out the window. Of course, that should he try, he would probably be the one being thrown out.

  
“Bollocks!” Hyungwon curses, rising to both feet as he stares down at Hoseok who just landed on his bottom. “What the hell are you doing?!”

  
Hoseok quickly raises a finger. “ _Shhhhh!_ ” He demands, taking his hood off and kneeling to peek out the open window.

  
Hyungwon gets a little closer and looks outside. He sees a carriage rush the corner and speed through the street. And not even two seconds later a Met car cuts the same corner to chase the first carriage. There are two men running after the Met’s car.

  
He takes a deep breath and looks down at Hoseok who’s still peeking out the window. “What did you do?”

  
Hoseok looks up, a little smile threatening the corner of his lips. “I was running away from two guys and somehow the police got involved… aaaand… I might’ve…” He tils his head and looks to the side. There’s dirt on his face. “I might’ve elbowed a policeman in the face by mistake…”

  
“You…” Hyungwon blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice. He shakes his head in disbelief. “ _What_.” He can’t believe it. He hadn’t seen Hoseok in two weeks. And now there he is, without a care in the world. Without any consideration for how _slightly_ worried Hyungwon might’ve been.

  
Hoseok stands up. He doesn’t seem to care he’s a little too close, but Hyungwon does. _Especially_ because Hoseok _stinks_ like the sewers. Hyungwon can’t help the gag reflex and Hoseok doesn’t seem to notice because he’s already walking towards the small expensive chair.

  
“You wouldn’t believe where I’ve been,” he starts.

  
“The dumpster?” Hyungwon deadpans.

  
Hoseok sits down and lets out a pleasant sigh. Hyungwon knows, _he knows_ he’s going to have to buy a new chair. That smell is never going to wear off, no matter how many times the chair is washed.

  
“Old St Paul's Cathedral.” Hoseok says as if it’s obvious. “Well, the catacombs, to be more precise.”

  
Hyungwon makes the most confused face in existence, then raises both arms. “No. _No_. There is no alternative universe in which we finish this conversation without you taking a bath first.”

  
Hoseok laughs. “What?”

  
Hyungwon scowls at the butler. “Mathew. Take him away and _please_ take the chair too. Both, _out_. Tell someone to give him a bath.”

  
“What?” Hoseok asks again.

  
Mathew bows slightly but turns again to ask, “Uhm, Sir. The chair as well?”

  
Hyungwon gestures. “It’s doomed, Mathew. It’s doomed. Just take it. _Burn it_.”

  
“Well,” Mathew turns his head sharply to glare at Hoseok who’s starting to look like a kicked puppy, “this way, Mr.”

  
Hyungwon ignores the drama Hoseok makes as soon as Mathew tries to lead him out of the room. And when the door finally closes, and the room is silent, Hyungwon throws his hands to his face and groans.

  
He sits by his desk not even two minutes later and he swears he can hear flies zooming over his head. “Great,” mutters.

 

 

 

 

The sitting room is Hyungwon’s favourite place in the house. Beige walls decorated with bookcases, old family portraits whose names he knows by heart—a duty. Armchairs ornamented in white and red details hug the centre of the room. A fireplace that holds his father’s old clock on top. Desks, some with statues, others with vases full of freshly picked flowers. All in all, a bright room. Perhaps the brightest.

  
He’s standing by the window, arms crossed, a glass of gin in hand, tapping a finger on his elbow as seconds turn into minutes.

  
Someone knocks at the door and it’s Mathew who enters the room. Hyungwon turns just in time to see Hoseok walk in and—Hyungwon can’t believe how ridiculous the man looks. He rolls his eyes and faces the window one last time before he ungracefully and very unlike him throws the rest of the gin down his throat.

  
The liquid burns.

  
Hyungwon doesn’t mind. Not this time.

  
“ _Sir_ ,” Mathew starts, voice trembling, “we’ve come across a slight complication… uhm.”

  
Hyungwon places the small crystal glass over the closest table and sighs. “Yes, Mathew. I can see that.”

  
“Your clothes, Sir. _Well_ ,” Mathew looks at Hoseok over his shoulder, “we tried with some of your father’s and it does look slightly better…”

  
Hyungwon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not good enough, Mathew. Not good enough.”

  
Hoseok looks, _well_ , tight. That white, long-sleeved shirt should’ve been baggy, but there it is, clinging to the man’s skin like it wants to strangle him. And Hyungwon is not even going to look waist down. There’s a lot going on and he’d rather not.

  
He might need a fainting couch. The whole thing is just outrageous.

  
“I hate today,” he tells no one in particular. He walks towards the nearest sofa and sits down like he needs it. “Thank you, Mathew.”

  
“Sir. I will hurry the maids to wash the guest's clothes.”

  
“ _Please_.”

  
Mathew exits the room leaving them to sort out the awkward atmosphere. Of course, Hoseok doesn’t even seem to be slightly concerned. He’s looking around, taking his time with every single painting as if he’s studying them.

  
Hyungwon is massaging his forehead when Hoseok says, “You look like her.” He’s looking at a small portrait on top of the tiny table in the corner, and Hyungwon stops to watch him as Hoseok picks it up and smiles small. “ _Yeah_ … you look like her.”

  
“Thank you.”

  
Hoseok doesn’t look up when he says, “She’s beautiful.”

  
Hyungwon looks down, “I never met her… I don’t even know if she’s still alive. My father never spoke of her.”

  
Gently, Hoseok puts the portrait down and walks towards the sofa. He sits, probably uncomfortably, _considering his pants_. “Where is he?”

  
Hyungwon tilts his head towards one of the bigger paintings and Hoseok follows with his eyes. “There.”

  
“He looks angry.” Hoseok points out.

  
“He does. He was fine, though. A little dramatic but fine.”

  
“Oh! So that’s where you get it.”

  
Hyungwon looks the other way. “Irrelevant.”

  
“Prim and proper with a terrible personality underneath? I like it.”

  
“I don’t care.”

 

Hoseok chuckles, “Aw _,_ there it is!”

  
“And you?” Hyungwon asks, attempting to divert the attention away from him. “Your family? Are they like you?”

  
Hoseok’s smile starts to recede but doesn’t completely subside. “Were.” He corrects.

  
“Oh… I’m sorry.”

  
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It happened. It’s in the past.”

  
“So, were they Assassins too?”

  
“Yes.”

  
Hyungwon raises an eyebrow, leans back and crosses his legs. “How does that even work? Are you bred like war dogs or what?”

  
Hoseok laughs. “Are you for real?”

  
“What. I’m legitimately curious, here.”

  
Hoseok rolls his eyes and shake his head. “Of course you are.”

  
“I swear.”

  
He sighs. “My family was… _cheonmin_ , the lowest class. They were reduced from a higher class as punishment for a crime they didn’t commit.”

 

Hyungwon frowns. “What do you mean?”

  
Hoseok shifts to get comfortable and looks towards the fireplace, he looks a little melancholic. “The Templars came with the Japanese invasions. And they stayed in the aftermath, taking advantage of the chaos. By the time the Brotherhood took notice, families were being thrown at the wolves just _because_. Whatever seemed convenient, I suppose.”

  
“I see…”

  
“When the Brotherhood came for them, they saw freedom, they saw a future. And they took it with the promise of revenge. The Assassins needed more warriors to fight the growing Templar influence. And the people, the little people, wanted an escape.”

  
Hyungwon nods. “So, you were born into the whole conflict…”

  
“And shaped by it.” Hoseok admits. “I graduated at the age of 13. The year I turned 16 our Cell was discovered. A lot of people died, my parents included…” He seems to be lost in his own memories for a few seconds. Then, he shrugs. “It was a beautiful temple. A shame it had to burn.”

  
Not the type of bedtime story a child wants to hear, but Hyungwon remembers his father's stories. All of them. Even as they grew darker and darker as the years passed. And Hyungwon remembers this one particularly well.

  
There are always two sides. Two paths. And sometimes neither is the correct one.

  
Hyungwon leans forward. “Ah, yes. I might have heard a little about that… My perspective might be a little different, though.” He feels Hoseok’s eyes on him glaring, testing. He goes on, “The Assassins weren’t exactly the benevolent kind… And I think you know this… the things they did…?”

  
Hoseok’s eyebrows knit together and he lowers his gaze. He seems conflicted, like he wants to speak but can’t. Frustration. And Hyungwon can see it, he can read it like he’s reading an open book.

  
_We make war on those who oppose us, and they in turn make war on us._ Except it escalates. And by the time someone takes notice, too much blood has already been shed.

  
“ _We_ …” Hoseok starts, afraid, “we give our lives in a conflict that will be recorded in no history book. All that we do, all that we are, begins and ends with ourselves. What we did—what I did had to be done. When it’s not your job, it’s someone else’s. And someone else might have done it wrong. And _I know_ … I know it doesn’t—” He pauses. It’s like he’s struggling, trying to unlearn how to stay quiet when he wants to speak “— excuse it… but in a world where all you touch has been tainted by chaos, you can’t help but succumb.”

  
Hyungwon understands.

  
People believe themselves redeemers, avengers, saviours. Both Assassins and Templars are taught the end justifies the means. And so, just like them, people prey on each other like they’re imprinted to do, no matter what beliefs they hold.

  
He can feel Hoseok’s conflict. The struggle between loving a country and hating what the country has done to him. Wanting to speak but knowing he’s going to hurt himself if he does.

  
They're not so different, after all.

  
“People,” Hyungwon starts, “are evil by nature. All it takes is a little push and they will show their true colours. So, don’t worry. I am not here to judge you.”

  
“No,” Hoseok smiles, “people are good. But they are easily tainted by what surrounds them. You and I are no different.”

  
Hyungwon is not surprised to hear that.

  
A minute of silence passes between them.

  
Then, Hyungwon questions, “If things are that bad over there, why did you come here?” He’s already expecting the answer he gets.

  
“To search for the Piece of Eden.”

  
“But why?”

  
Hoseok opens his mouth then closes it. Like he must think before he answers. Like he’s so focused with his goal he has forgotten why he’s at it. “Because… because the Brotherhood back home hopes it will help them turn the tide, somehow.”

  
Hyungwon raises an eyebrow. “And you think that’s wise?”

  
“Well, I… What I think doesn’t matter.”

  
“No. No, Hoseok. It does. Can’t you see? You know what they’re going to do, don’t you?”

  
_He knows._

  
Hoseok shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  
Hyungwon scoffs. “Of course you do! You’ve been telling it to my face ever since we’ve met.” He’s going to say it. Hyungwon is going to say what Hoseok can’t. “We both know what they are: radicals. The same blighter I’m trying to fight here!”

  
“I can’t fail, _Hyungwon_ … not again. I had to watch everyone die once. I won’t allow it to happen a second time.”

  
“Hoseok, they’re going to die anyway.” Hyungwon says without flinching. It’s harsh but by the blank expression Hoseok is wearing, Hyungwon knows it didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt because Hoseok _knows_. “Even if you manage to find the damned thing, do you really think the British Brotherhood is going to let you walk away with a Piece of Eden in your pocket?”

  
Silence installs itself. And for the first time Hyungwon hates it. He hates the silence. He hates ignorance. And he knows the person in front of him has the potential to do better.

  
Three knocks at the door.

  
Hyungwon rolls his eyes. Hoseok leans back and looks at the ceiling.

  
Mathew enters the room. “Sir.”

  
“Mathew,” Hyungwon replies.

  
“Sir. Pardon the intrusion. But we’d like to know if the guest is staying for lunch.”

  
Hyungwon raises an eyebrow. “ _We?_ ”

  
Giggles can be heard just outside the room. _The maids._

  
“Sir,” Mathew says as if that’s the right answer.

  
“No,” Hoseok finally replies. “I’m not.”

  
“Yes,” Hyungwon counters, “He is.”

  
Hoseok raises his head slowly and glares. He is angry. And while that should be terrifying, Hyungwon finds it pitiful. _How can a man so big be so small,_ he wonders _. How can a man be both what he is and what he's been told to become?_

  
“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Hoseok tells him.

  
Hyungwon gets up and walks towards the window, picking up the empty glass he left on top of the table. _It needs refilling._ “What did you find at underneath St Paul's?” He asks, eyes craved on the glass, looking at his own reflex, then looking over his shoulder.

  
Mathew looks between them.

  
Hoseok tries to cross his arms but the tight shirt forbids the movement. He ignores the question.

  
“ _Hoseok_.”

  
“Alright, _fine_. I found an Initiation chamber.”

  
Hyungwon frowns. “Initiation chamber? I don’t get it.”

  
Hoseok fumbles with his shirt, “The Initials K.C.E. were tricky to figure out, but I knew I’d seen them somewhere before. So, I searched.” He gets up and looks at Hyungwon. “When I arrived in London, I met with the British Mentor inside St Paul’s Cathedral. On the farthest wall there’s a stone craved with the initials K.C.II. The fire in 1666 destroyed a lot and I imagine many underground entrances were sealed off during reconstruction. But it’s not uncommon for certain Assassin Cells to abide by the old rituals. And believe me when I tell you that whatever we build is meant to last. So, I found an underground passage through The Thames and—”

  
“Wait. So, you’re telling me the Old St James was the Assassins’ Headquarters?”

  
“Yes. And do you remember who was king regnant at the time?”

  
Hyungwon puts the empty glass back down without taking his eyes of Hoseok. “ _No_ … No way.”

  
“King Charles II.”

  
_K.C.E._

  
King Charles of England.

  
King Charles II, an Assassin.

  
“Good graces,” Mathew gasps.

  
Hoseok looks down at the carpet. “The people in your list were probably the only ones who knew about the Piece of Eden. And I imagine someone as important as the king most likely charged himself with the duty to protect it.”

  
“If that’s the case then it will be hidden in the Royal Treasury,” Hyungwon says, scowling when it clicks in his head, “Which is why you’re here.” He disapproves. “You need my help, again.”

  
Hoseok smiles small. “If you’re done trying to make me angry, then yes.”  
  
  
“I don’t approve.”

  
“You don’t have to,” Hoseok tells him closing the distance between them. “We made a deal. _And_ you’re going to keep your end of the bargain.”

  
Hyungwon looks away.

  
Fear.

  
Worry.

  
_Respect._


	10. Sequence 3, Memory 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sydenham's Laudanum - a tincture of opium containing approximately 10% powdered opium by weight (the equivalent of 1% morphine).
> 
> Michyeossuh - (Korean) "Are you crazy?"
> 
> Thomas Paine - an English-born American political activist, philosopher, political theorist and revolutionary. One of the Founding Fathers of the United States.

_August, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

 

_“No doctrine free from harshness commands respect.”_

 

 

 

The London Bridge. Stripped from houses and shops, naked and busy as carts line on top trying to cross The Thames. An old bridge from ages past, obviously narrow, increasingly decrepit and evidently long past its useful life.

  
The Thames, itself held up as a symbol for London, soon to be the world capital of trade.

  
Finely dressed spectators, enthusiastic crowds and energetic hat-waving festivities to celebrate yet another docking port inauguration.

  
And Hoseok watches it all from the bridge, as cargo is loaded into a nearby boat. He’s been making sure Hyungwon’s trading business runs smoothly, especially considering the latest increase in crime rate.

  
Leather glinting as the sun washes his coat with light, Hoseok knows he’s begging for a heatstroke. He pulls his hood up, covering his head in hopes it protects him from the sun.

  
He’s focused, watching as the boat finally departs, when a figure joins him by the rail. Body unmoving, Hoseok watches by the corner of his eye as Daniel leans over the banister next to him.

  
“Baby-sitting?” the man asks, scrub obvious to the naked eye.

  
Hoseok frowns. “Master Daniel.”

  
Daniel laces his fingers and shifts his weight, leaning a little further to look down at the docks. “Carefree, aren’t they?” He motions towards the waving crowd. “Unware of the personified corruption walking between them.” He’s talking about the Templars, Hyungwon’s men more specifically. “I sincerely hope this little adventure of yours pays off.” He looks towards Hoseok. “Templars are cunning monsters. And your new friend is no different.”

  
“He is no friend of mine.”

  
Daniels scoffs. “Whatever you say, kid.”

  
Hoseok tries to avoid sighing. He’s half way through a deep breath when he realizes he needs to let it go way more quietly than he’d intended to. “Do you need something?”

  
“Yes, in fact.” Daniel massages the facial hair growing on his chin. “What do you know about the opium trades?”

  
“That people here ingest Sydenham's Laudanum like it’s a serum of eternal life,” Hoseok mocks.

  
“That wasn’t the question.”

  
“That the British East India Company's import of opium to China reaches a _staggering_ two thousand chests of opium per year?”

  
“Correct,” Daniel steps away from the railing. “For years I have been investigating the trading business and collecting whatever information I can on this substance. D’Lewis thinks there’s a catch somewhere and, honestly,” he crosses his arms, “I have to agree.”

  
Hoseok contemplates a few thoughts while he tries to find something useful to say. His head has been a mess for the past few weeks. He feels revolted and he’s trying to keep it under control. It has come to a point he’s afraid he’ll step out of the line and say something he’ll regret.

  
“The Chinese emperor, Yung Cheng, issued an edict prohibiting the smoking of opium and its domestic sale, except under license for use as medicine,” Daniel goes on. “I feel like it will escalate to a full ban, soon enough, making trade and poppy cultivation illegal.”

  
“And?” Hoseok asks in lack of anything better to say.

  
“ _And?_ Whom do you think this would benefit?”

  
“The Templars,” it’s not even a question at this point. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d prayed upon people’s vices. So, if it isn’t happening already it is bound to happen soon. Still, this is all but speculation and Hoseok can’t help but ask, “What do you need from me, though?”

  
Daniel crosses his arms. “Considering your latest reports have been poor in matters that concern us,” that’s right, Hoseok hadn’t told them about his discovery, “we thought this little partnership of yours could come in handy.”

  
“So, what’s our plan?”

  
“Our plan? No. We want you to use your privileged access, if we can call it that, to search without prejudice. If your friend is involved, he will deny it. We need to know the truth, kid.”

  
The word _truth_ makes Hoseok’s stomach hurt. An avalanche runs down the barriers he had so carefully built around his feelings and his words come out unfiltered. “ _Michyeossuh?_ No. This partnership is based on good faith. I can’t just cut corners and break his trust.”

  
Daniel doesn’t seem to understand the first word, but he can clearly hear the disrespect. He gets closer, so close he spits in Hoseok’s face when he says through greeted teeth, “Look, _kid_. I am not here to hold your hand. This is an order and you will _obey_!” He glares one last time before turning around and walking away, disappearing in between the busy road.

  
It’s his first time disrespecting an elder. Yet, somehow, Hoseok doesn’t feel as bad as he thought he would have. He cleans his cheek and scowls at his hand. “I live to serve,” he says bitterly.

  
Hoseok knows that one of the many places Hyungwon owns around town is a big syrup distillery in Southwark. Not that it’s a suspicious place, but Hoseok figures he must start somewhere. Especially considering opium is one of the many ingredients used in many medicinal drugs.

  
He piggybacks a cart all the way across the bridge, letting go when the horses turn the opposite way from where he wants to go.

  
It’s a disheartening walk through Southwark’s streets, but he manages to reach his destination.

  
Surprisingly, the factory is closed, but there’s a man by the entrance. He’s struggling to climb a few wooden boxes to look through one of the windows. Finally, he manages, tiptoeing for a few seconds before all comes crashing down.

  
Hoseok closes the distance, slowly, and watches the man from behind, quickly raising his arm and sticking the hidden blade out the moment the man turns around is a rush. Grey hair, face shaved and the kindest eyes Hoseok has seen these past few days.

  
The old man is quick to shove Hoseok’s hand away, “You should not go about frightening respectable gentleman, child!”

  
_Child?_

  
Hoseok frowns but is betrayed by the little smirk his lips pull. “I didn’t realize snooping around was considered gentlemanly.”

  
“What?” The man sounds displeased. He starts gesturing dramatically, “Says the one wearing a black hood, rushing in, little knife in hand!”

  
Hoseok scoffs to the side and shoves the hood off.

  
_Little knife_ … If only.

  
“My name,” the man introduces, “is Thomas Paine. Can’t say it’s a pleasure, Sir.”

  
“Shin Hoseok.”

  
“Shin?”

  
_Oh dear._

  
“Very well. _Shin_ tell me: do you know who's in charge of this place?”

  
Hoseok glances at the brick-built building. “I know who the owner is, but I have no idea who runs the business.” He looks back at Thomas. “Why?”

  
The man doesn’t reply. Instead, he seems to be sizing Hoseok up, like he’s admiring a piece of art, turning his head to look at him from different angles. “You look like a capable young man,” he finally says. “Let’s be friends,” and just like that Hoseok sees a colour in an otherwise monochrome day.

  
However, he doesn’t know what that means until Thomas asks for help, saying he wants to break into the distillery. Hoseok figures he might just roll with it. After all, it’s what he’d intended to do in the first place.

  
Thomas rambles.

  
Hoseok pretends to listen. His brain registers the words France and manuscript.

  
They decide to break the window.

  
“Wait, you’re coming with?” Hoseok asks as he kneels on top of the windowsill, having jumped almost a meter and a half to reach it.

  
“Well, of course!” Thomas throws his hand, waiting to be pulled up. “Just because I asked for help doesn’t mean I am letting you do everything on your own.” If only more people reasoned with such morality… Hoseok’s life would be a lot easier.

  
_We need you to do this. Do it._

  
_We need you to do that. Do it._

  
_Not here to hold your hand. Do it._

  
_Do this instead. Listen to me instead. I know better. Do it._

  
What he does, in fact, is catch Thomas by his wrist, as the man gives a little jump, and pull him up with one arm only.

  
“You are a strong man!”

  
“I have my days,” Hoseok murmurs later when they’re already inside, looking at what seems to be a huge Still House and not a syrup distillery after all.

  
_Peculiar._

  
Hyungwon had never mentioned owning a rum business. Plus, Hoseok has come to notice gin is all the man drinks. London Dry Gin, to be precise.

  
Thomas walks ahead, nose up as if he’s sniffing for something.

  
“What did you hope to find in here?” Hoseok asks, a little nonchalantly.

  
“A man.”

  
That catches Hoseok’s attention. “What do you mean?”

  
Thomas is poking around, knocking on the metal stills as if he expects the sound to give him the answers he seeks. “I came all the way from Paris, chasing a man who has stolen something of mine. A manuscript, the second part to a book I wrote.”

  
“A book?”

  
“ _Rights of Man_ , you’ve probably heard of it, at least. It’s quite famous.”

  
No. Hoseok doesn’t have the foggiest idea. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  
Thomas looks over his shoulder. “Let’s just say I am an enthusiastic supporter of the French Revolution. This second part is quite interesting. It details a representative government with enumerated social programs to remedy the numbing poverty of commoners through progressive tax measures.”

  
Hoseok follows a section of pipes with his eyes as he hums in reply. “So, you’re one of those. An idealist.”

  
“My friend, I would rather be called a radical. People serve that word, _idealist_ , around like an insult for someone who’s not to be taken seriously. But I am quite serious.”

  
Hoseok glances quickly at the man before resuming his throughout search of the place. “I apologize. So, who stole your book—I mean, manuscript?”

  
“Men working for Maximilien de Robespierre, I am certain.” Thomas says bitterly.

  
_Maximilien de Robespierre?_

  
Maximilien François Marie Isidore de Robespierre? The radical lawyer-turned-Templar Robespierre? _Now, that’s curious._

  
“Why would someone in charge of the revolution be your enemy?” Hoseok asks, now giving Thomas his full attention.

  
Thomas seems to flare up. “ _In charge?_ The man is a tyrant! He does not support the revolution! He is just taking advantage of it.” That sounds a lot like the Templars, yes. “He is a very good speaker with a terrible agenda. Mark my words, boy. His reign of terror will come, and he wants to start with me! He’s been chasing me ever since the first part to _Rights of Man_ was released.”

  
“I still don’t get it. What does all of that have to do with this?” Hoseok gestures around.

  
With a sigh, Thomas explains. “I am certain Robespierre stole the manuscript. Somehow, however, someone managed to steal it from him. I’ve received word an Italian merchant here in London plans to sell it back the to the men who took it in the first place in exchange for a good business permit.” He points his index finger up, “ _And that_ , my friend, I cannot allow!”

  
Hoseok smiles, amused by the man’s vibrato. “So, your search has lead you here? But why?”

  
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Thomas stops in front of an iron wheel. “Hm, these must have been expensive. These sort of materials aren’t found just up and about.”

  
_Well, Hyungwon has money_. And if this place really is his then Hoseok has a few questions for him. Starting with—

  
“Is this a rum distillery?”

  
“No,” Thomas answers right away. “One could mistake it as such. But no… _oh no_. This is something better. Much better. And a lot more dangerous.” He stops near a table at the end of the room. “Young man! Here!”

  
_Please, let Daniel be wrong. Please, let Daniel be wrong_ , Hoseok thinks to himself repeatedly as if that would help. He will really hate it if Hyungwon is involved with anything that might tip the Assassins off the wrong way.

  
He reaches the table and looks at the formulas written on papers that have been carelessly tossed about. There’s dust all over them and a few capsules with a strange liquid inside lay there as well.

  
“Interesting,” says Thomas, “ _Datura stramonium_. Or Devil’s snare, as it is commonly called. This place,” he looks around, “is not your usual distillery, oh no.”

  
Hoseok runs his fingers across one of the papers, a sketch of a flower, “I know this plant.”

  
“It has many uses, so I’ve heard. Medicinal and…”

  
“Poison. Some people use it to make poison.” And he knows this because that is what the darts he carries inside one of his pockets are bathed with. “This is definitely not opium… and I am not relieved at all.”

  
“Opium?” Thomas looks up. “Is that what you were hoping to find?”

  
Hoseok frowns. “It’s what I was hoping I wouldn’t find. Yet somehow this is worse.”

  
Suddenly, a noise of metal sliding across metal screeches through the distillery. Both Hoseok and Thomas look over their shoulders and duck just in time as a few men walk in through the front gate.

  
Hoseok throws a finger to his lips and glances at Thomas who nods in reply. He guides the old man slowly in between the metal contraptions until they’re officially out of sight. There is no place to hide however, and Hoseok knows he’s going to have to fight his way out.

  
“Who broke the window?” One of the men shouts.

  
“What? What window,” Another replies with a very strange accent.

  
Thomas pulls Hoseok by his bicep. “It’s him,” he whispers, “the man I’ve been searching for!”

  
“Why is he here?”

  
“His name is Ademaro. I asked around and someone told me such man was supposed to be acquiring a nearby distillery today. I just assumed this was the one.”

  
Hoseok tils his body slightly to the side and sighs silently. “Maybe that’s what he’s getting out of the deal with the Templars…”

  
“What Templars?”

  
“Never mind. Stay here.”

  
“Where are you going?” Thomas whispers aggressively as he watches Hoseok slowly sneak away, hood already over his head.

  
There are two problems Hoseok has been hammering inside his head these past few days:

  
Firstly, he’s not so sure of what he’s supposed to be doing anymore. The closer he gets to finding the Piece of Eden the more complex the whole issue becomes. There must be a reason as to why a selected group of Assassins hid the artefact away from the rest of the Brotherhood. There must be a reason as to why there are no official records of an ancient artefact ever reaching London in the last 500 years. Maybe Hyungwon is right. Maybe the British Brotherhood is corrupt. Just as corrupt as the ones who raised him, the ones who made him who he is and with who he’s been silently working all his life.

  
There’s no denying it. No matter how much he avoids thinking about it, how much he denies it whenever he is confronted, Hoseok knows where he came from. He knows what has been done. And he has always known that one day the Assassins back home would die from the same poison they spew.

  
It’s just sad he has to live it. After all, they are his brothers and sisters. His friends. And he is running out of those. If he can’t at least save them, what good is he? No better than he was all those years back when he had to watch his family die.

  
Secondly, he feels moody and complacent. His own open-mindedness is becoming a burden. He’s accepted to see things from a perspective he’s been taught to hate all his life, and he’s enjoying it more than he should be. Especially because he feels needed, heard. Like his opinion matters after all. However, these feelings don’t go hand in hand with what’s expected of him. He feels like rebelling, but he doesn’t know how to do it or if he’ll survive it.

  
And now, to top it all, he has a new thing to concern himself with. If Hyungwon is involved in shady businesses, the Assassins will come for him.

  
Hyungwon might not be his friend, not yet at least, but what little they have is the closest thing to friendship Hoseok has at this point. And that is something he needs to protect. Even if he must fight a hundred grunts in one go, talk back when he’s not supposed to and maybe take on a dream that isn’t his own.

  
If only Hyungwon had been honest in first place...

  
Luckily, for now, he will only have to fight 10 men—and catch the 11th for his new acquaintance, Thomas.

  
Hoseok rises to both feet and walks loudly towards the entrance until he’s standing in the middle of the hall with a bunch of men looking him up and down.

  
They’re surrounding him like wolves surrounding their prey.

  
One of them whistles.

  
Another says, “Look, it’s the hooded prick I’ve heard so much about.”

  
The target, Thomas’ man, steps and little closer and speaks with an Italian accent. “How did you get inside? Were you the one who broke the window?”

  
Someone else gets closer as well, long, curved knife in hand, “What do you want?” He shouts.

  
Hoseok looks at each one of them from where he stands, eyes shadowed by his hood. “I want him,” he says when his eyes lay on the Italian man. The merchant Thomas so desperately needs.

  
“Oh, _porca miseria!_ ” The man in question yells. “Get him!”

  
The one with the long, curved knife moves first. Arm forward, clumsily throwing himself in to strike. Hoseok side steps, then grabbing the man’s wrist with his left hand and using his right to Mach punch him in the shoulder.

  
The knife begins a free fall and Hoseok turns quickly to grab it, spinning in the same movement to face someone else who had already flung themselves into the fight.

  
Hoseok tosses the knife to his right hand.

  
The first casualty falls on the floor in pain. That dislocated shoulder should keep him benched for now. The rest will follow.

  
The next in line runs in, arms up, probably going for a grab. But Hoseok kneels just in time to slice the man’s abdomen with enough strength to render him helpless. Then, he throws his arm back to hit the man in the head, knocking him out.

  
Someone is already following up, but he doesn’t get far. Hoseok slices him too, then kicking him away and swinging forward to throw the knife at the man across in a straight line.

  
What follows is a hot mess of punches and grunting spiced with a few Italian slurs. In the end, the ground is decorated with men and Hoseok has Mr. Ademaro against the wall.

  
He is vomiting all sorts of nonsense when Thomas walks out of his hiding spot. “You!” Ademaro shouts. Then, he laughs.

  
Hoseok frowns and increases his grip on the man’s arm. “I’d behave, if I were you.”

  
Thomas walks towards them, finger raised like he’s ready to start a fight. “Tell me where the manuscript is!”

  
Ademaro laughs, again. “Oh, _Madonna!_ You are too late!”

  
“What?”

  
“I sold your papers, _vecchio_. They paid me good money for them. Plus, I even managed to add this huge distillery to the deal. And they took it! Desperate men… _Hah!_ ”

  
Thomas squeezes his hand in a trembling fist and turns away. “Damn it!” He quickly exits the building, paying no mind to the men on the floor.

  
Hoseok glances over his shoulder to think—as if the man in front of him is the cause of his brain freeze—He has a hunch. He’s either right or he’s just being hopeful.

  
Ademaro squirms and Hoseok looks back at him, profusely frowning.

  
“Let me go, vagrant!” The man shouts.

  
A thought crosses Hoseok’s mind and he doesn’t look back. “ _Requiescat in pace_ ,” he says, and his hidden blade meets Ademaro’s throat.

  
_Che miserie nascono dall’avidità_. What wretched things are born of greed.

  
The weather outside has turned foul to match.

  
Hoseok walks out the front gate and looks up at the sky.

  
The sun is gone.

  
He glances around and sees Thomas kicking a rock nearby. “Mr. Paine,” he calls, surprised to find his tone slightly more joyful than he’d expected. “Follow me. I know who has your manuscript.”


	11. Sequence 3, Memory 2

_August, 1791_   
_London_

 

 

 

_“For in much wisdom, is much grief, and he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.”_

 

 

 

There isn’t really anything wrong, per se. Conflicts of life and of interest happen all the time and are forever bound to happen between them. And yet Hoseok can’t shake the worry away. Why is he worried? He doesn’t know. Not exactly, at least. He knows the facts and the facts scare him.

  
He is mostly scared for himself. Because whatever this thing between him and Hyungwon is, or isn’t, means nothing at the end of line. People lie and people cheat. People do what they must do to survive. And survival is an ugly thing. Purely egoistical, self-serving and whatever other words Hoseok can’t think of right now.

  
He walks, pace fast, and Thomas can barely keep up.

  
“You have a good cardio, my friend,” he gasps, noticing he has fallen a few steps behind once again. “I am fairly curious about your diet. How can you be so big and well-built? Do you practice underground fighting, by any chance?”

  
But Hoseok is not listening. He is busy coming up with a thousand scenarios in his head. It’s something he has always been good at: overthinking. It’s probably the reason why he isn’t dead yet. And it’s the same reason why he is involved in this mess now. Because overthinking is both a blessing and a curse. A curse that is starting to lead him astray.

  
He stops, abruptly, and looks at the building he’s come to know so well. There’s a moment long enough to fit a heartbeat in before Hoseok breathes in and throws his fist at the door, banging like the wants to bring the whole house down.

  
Thomas arrives not even two seconds later, breath heavy, probably too heavy for his age. “Where are we?” He asks, panting like he just ran the entire course of The Thames.

  
Again, Hoseok doesn’t reply.

  
The door opens. Mathew barely has any time to speak before Hoseok effortlessly barges in.

  
“Where is he?” He asks, enduring Mathew’s scrutinizing gaze until he gets an answer.

  
“Upstairs,” The butler manages, eyes widening when he sees there’s another man coming in right after Hoseok.

  
“Pardon the intrusion, Sir.” Says Thomas, “I’m with him.”

  
Hoseok is moving, climbing the stairs three steps at once until he can no long hear Mathew or Thomas. He reaches the last floor and glances towards the right. The office is open.

  
Hyungwon is leaning over his desk when Hoseok walks in.

  
“HEY!” He shouts.

  
“Hey?” Hyungwon replies, rising to both feet. He seems confused, eyes darting towards the door, probably expecting Mathew to be following in right behind with an explanation. But he is not coming.

  
Hoseok closes the distance between them. There’s only the desk keeping him from grabbing Hyungwon by his coat. “You lied to me,” he accuses.

  
“What?” There is a desperate edge in Hyungwon’s expression—like he’s looking for something he lost in Hoseok’s eyes. And Hoseok knows there is a word for that face: shame. “What are you talking about?”

  
Hoseok points towards the windows. “Your distillery in Southwark!”

  
Hyungwon opens his mouth in a silent ah, then closes it. Realization. “Why were you there?” His tone has shifted. He sounds guarded, defensive. But that only makes Hoseok feel angrier.

  
“Does it matter?”

  
“As a matter of fact, it does. If you are here to accuse me of something, you better pick your words carefully.”

  
“Why is there a distillery full of nightshade serum, packed to sell under your name?”

  
“Inheritance,” Hyungwon says like it’s obvious. “Not something I am proud of. But I can’t exactly get rid of it.” He sighs. “The place might be mine, but I don’t have a say in what happens within. The orders come from above.”

  
“Hyungwon, you know what they’re doing with that don’t you?” It doesn’t really matter what the Templars are doing with the poison. What matters is that they are running an entire business with it and something like that never ends well for anybody.

  
“Yes.”

  
Hoseok blinks, he can’t believe it. “ _You_ … You’ve been preaching to my face for the past months about how you want to change things. About how you want to—what did you call it—cleanse this city… And yet you are just as dirty as the people you strike your profane judgement upon!”

  
Hyungwon scowls. “Rich words. You think it’s simple, do you? Then tell me, why were you at the distillery? No—don’t answer. We both know why.”

  
Mathew enters the room, “Sir.”

  
“Not now!”

  
“But Sir, Mr. Paine is here.”

  
Hyungwon rolls his eyes. “Tell him to wait.”

  
“Oh, I can wait!” Thomas shouts from the corridor.

  
“And, Sir…”

  
“What, Mathew.”

  
“Something happened at the syrup distillery down in Southwark. Your uncle is on the way there. Should I prepare the horses and the cart?”

  
Hyungwon’s eyes shift to Hoseok and he glares. “What did you do?”

  
Hoseok glares back. “My job.”

  
“Did you kill him?”

  
“He had a foul mouth.”

  
“Not everything should be solved with murder…”

  
Hoseok scoffs. “Unless it’s convenient for you, right? Well, not everything is good business.” He feels betrayed. There isn’t really anything wrong. In fact, everything is just right the way it should be. “You will always be what you are. And I will always be what I am.”

  
“So it would seem,” Says Hyungwon. He sounds hurt. And, somehow, Hoseok feels hurt too. By his own words no less.

  
He has always been afraid to leave bits of his heart in other people’s hands, be it dreams, opinions or trust, a long stare or a comfortable silence. And somehow Hyungwon had managed to pick little bits out. Bits Hoseok wouldn’t be able to get back. Little moments that had felt like a venture on their behalf, now worth nothing.

  
“Sir?” Mathew calls from the door.

  
Hyungwon sits back on his chair and rubs his fingers over his forehead. “Yes, whatever. Tell Mr. Paine to come in.”

  
Hoseok turns around. His feet feel heavy when he tries to walk. He’s still angry and he still has a lot to say, but maybe some things are better left unsaid. After all, the truth is never spoken but always felt.

  
And the truth is Hyungwon, while dreaming about a better world, is still a Templar. And Hoseok, no matter the struggle within him, is still an Assassin. They will never be anything but what they are, forever bound to whatever that means.

  
“I’ll be outside,” he whispers as he gets out and Thomas walks in.

 

 

 

 

A murder of crows flies over the street and Hoseok watches them from where he’s sitting on the sidewalk. He feels tired, both physically and emotionally, his head hurts from thinking and his eyes ache from holding back a few confused tears.

  
But mostly, he feels lost. And every time he tries to reflect on it his heart seems to stop beating, just for a second. He feels misplaced in an ocean of possibilities, like his bearing compass just broke and he can’t find his way.

  
Across the street, the front door to Hyungwon’s mansion opens. Thomas steps out, papers in hand, he gestures towards Mathew and bows his head just slightly before turning around to look for—

  
“My friend!” He shouts once he spots Hoseok, running towards him like a headless chicken.

  
And Hoseok smiles at the old man, a little colour in a terribly monochrome day. “You seem happy,” He says.

  
The door closes.

  
Thomas awkwardly takes a seat on the sidewalk as well. He waves a bunch of papers in front of Hoseok's face. “I got my manuscript!”

  
“I’m glad.”

  
“Your friend was very kind. It seems Mr. Ademaro reached out to him and your friend took the deal because he realized what was at stake. A principled man.”

  
Of course. But Hoseok knows the truth. The sound of opportunity knocked at the door and Hyungwon saw a chance to do business, maybe get rid of one unpleasantry or two. After all, everything is an investment to him.

  
“A man after my own heart,” Hoseok says sarcastically, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as hollow as he suddenly feels.

  
Thomas starts humming the melody to a song Hoseok doesn’t recognize. “I am sorry the two of you fought.” He says later, as if he picked up on Hoseok’s mood. “Don’t worry. Friends fight all the time.”

  
“Hyungwon and I are not friends.” Quite the opposite, in fact.

  
“If you are not friends then why are you moping?”

  
Hoseok struggles to put feelings into words. What comes out sounds rather messy. “Because all this time I have… been running down a tunnel, chasing a light that never dims. And suddenly, the light is gone and… I don’t know where I was going with this. I suck at poetry.”

  
Thomas smiles knowingly and looks ahead. Hoseok might not be a poet, he’s not even a writer. But Thomas is. And he when he speaks his words are illusive enough to sound mystical and yet simple in a way Hoseok almost seems to understand what they mean. “You are in a room where the light won’t find you, my friend. I know not of your life, but I have glimpsed at the shadows you shoulder. They have become part of you, and you will never be free from them.” He nods towards the mansion. “You will want to be holding hands when the walls come tumbling down. There is a storm coming, a change we are not ready for. The old mentality will struggle to remain, and many will suffer. I might not be here to see it, but you, my friend, you will be glad to reach my age and realize you almost made it.”

  
“It’s not that simple.”

  
“It never is. Follow your path but compromise when you can. Your accomplishments will be worth nothing if there is no one to share them with in the end.” It feels as if Thomas is no longer speaking to Hoseok but to himself.

  
“I see…”

  
“Start a revolution while you are at it!”

  
Hoseok laughs. “You truly are an idealist.”

  
“Careful, my friend. I’ve heard it’s contagious. And I prefer the word—”

  
“Radical. I know.”

  
Time passes and Hoseok can feel his bottom becoming one with the sidewalk. He’s surprised Thomas is not complaining, considering his age.

  
The sun is setting. Both of them need to get moving. Both have things to do. And yet Hoseok is reluctant to get up and say goodbye to the only good thing today gave him.

  
A carriage exits from the back of the mansion and stops just a few meters away from the front door. Hoseok takes that as his cue to leave. He doesn't want to see Hyungwon again. Rising to his feet, he pats the back of his coat and takes a moment to help Thomas get up as well.

  
“It has been a pleasure,” the old man says.

  
“Quite a different stance from this morning.”

  
Thomas smiles. “What can I say? You are a charming young man, despite your ways.”

  
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  
And just like that, they shake hands. Thomas turns to walk down the street. Hoseok pretends he has something to do on the other side of the city.

  
Honestly, he just needs to walk. And probably visit a certain shady bar whose owner already knows what Hoseok drinks when he's sad.

  
Familiarity is what he needs. And such acknowledgement makes him smile bitterly at the sunset. “Friends…” he tells himself. “Maybe.” Maybe it’s not what he expected. Maybe it’s not what he wanted. But it’s damn well what he needs.


	12. Sequence 4, Memory 1

_September, 1791_   
_London_

 

  
_“No one rises so high as he who knows not whither he is going.”_

 

  
The crescent of metropolitan London which surrounds the City of London and had fallen under the jurisdiction of the county has a varied social composition. Westminster and the inner suburban parishes west of the City have socially mixed populations, composed largely of the households of the gentry and nobility together with the servants, shopkeepers and craftsmen who work for them.

Of course, this social mix generates social strains, particularly in the downwardly mobile parishes just outside the western boundary of the City such as St Giles in the Fields, where conflicts over disorderly houses, Irish immigrants and rapidly rising poverty have resulted in the parish having the highest crime prosecution rate in the metropolis.

It’s obvious why everyone seems a bit on edge when Hyungwon, Mathew and three body-guards exit a cart just outside the slum.

The ground is muddy even though it hasn’t rained in days and Hyungwon is making the utmost effort to avoid thinking about where all that water comes from. If the smell is of any indication, he already knows enough.

“Forever glad you convinced me to wear these old boots,” he comments to Mathew.

“Just doing my job, Sir.” Says the butler.

Ever since parting ways with Hoseok, Hyungwon’s business had expanded tenfold. He’d managed to resell the syrup distillery a few weeks after the unfortunate incident with Mr. Ademaro, the Italian merchant with ideas of grandeur, and sign contracts with nine new docks opening downriver. Even if he’s only getting 30% out of each, together they add to a rather decent profit.

But not everything is a silver lining. The bigger the cartel, the harder it is to control. And losing Hoseok means that now there is no one to look over the on-street trading dealings. So, of course, the whole month of September is turning into a headache with the ongoing raids to the transport carts and the murdered messengers.

Mathew has both hands behind his back. He’s ogling the prostitutes just a few meters away with the utmost curt expression. “Sir,” he starts, “may I ask—”

“You may not.”

“Who exactly is this person we will be meeting with?”

Hyungwon looks around. He feels uncomfortable, exposed. “A benefactor.”

Mathew blinks. “Here?” He adjusts his posture. “I fear for our safety, Sir.”

Of course, Hyungwon doesn’t pay the butler an ounce of attention. Despite his instincts, he doesn’t even consider in how much danger they actually are until much, much later, when the three body-guards lay unconscious on the floor and two hooded figures start chasing both Hyungwon and Mathew through what looks like a brothel.

Mathew, characteristically so, keeps his hands to himself when he has to pass through a group of dancing tiddies. But Hyungwon, only a few steps behind, is far more concerned with the two Assassins on his tail.

They make a U-turn on the exit and enter back through a ground-floor window that leads into an empty room. Mathew crouches right away and pushes Hyungwon down so abruptly his head hits the floor.

“Ouch!”

“ _Sh_.”

The Assassins exit the brothel. One of them keeps running, jumping over a fence and disappearing into the slums. But the other one stops. A woman, looks like, beige robes floating around her legs.

Mathew peeks over the window, hand moving slowly towards the pocket gun in his coat.

Everything happens in a heartbeat. The Assassin turns her head sharply over her shoulder just as Mathew rises to both feet, arm launching in a straight line forward.

There’s a loud _bang_.

The pigeons on the nearby roof take flight.

 

 

 

  
Hyungwon sits in the kitchens, leaning over the housemaids’ dining table while his new footman tends to the open wound on his eyebrow.

“Sir, you have to stop twitching,” says the footman. “It’s a deep cut.”

“Could have been deeper,” Mathew interjects from the other side of the room. “It’s the second time they ambush us like that. We need to be more careful.”

“I’ll say,” chirps the footman.

Hyungwon slaps the young man’s hand away from his face. “We _are_ being careful.”

“Sir,” Mathew’s voice sounds sharper than usual, “with all due respect, your carefulness already cost you an important asset. If you want to keep overseeing the business upclose like this, I suggest finding a trustworthy man to do it in your stead.”

A trustworthy man? Right. Like the one he willingly let walk out his front door with the intent of never coming back just a few weeks back.

Hyungwon taps his fingers over the table and glares. “I don’t pay you a £10 wage for you to talk to me like that.”

“In fact, I believe I could use a raise. How much do they pay valets these days?”

The footman grins at the bloodied cotton in his hand. “A whole £20!”

“Well, there you have it.”

“I hate you all,” Hyungwon hisses.

“Sir,” Mathew steps closer. “I know I wasn’t very keen on the idea. Not at first, at least. But you need the Assassin’s help.” He looks down. “If things keep going the way they have been I fear I will be on the look for a new job sooner or later.”

They level gazes with each other.

“What?” The footman looks over his shoulder, “You’re quitting?”

“No,” Hyungwon replies. “He’s not.”

It’s not like he hasn’t considered it, but Hoseok hadn’t parted ways with Hyungwon on the best of terms. He doesn’t even remember why they’d fought. Hoseok had been angry at him and in turn Hyungwon had gotten angry at Hoseok. Not because Hoseok had been wrong, no. But because he’d been right. And yet, whatever their reasons, everything is starting to feel quite ridiculous the more he thinks about it.

They could’ve talked it out. Hyungwon knows he could’ve explained it in a way Hoseok would have understood. He could have reached him and yet all he did was act like someone had just pissed all over his favourite shoes.

A feeling bubbles inside his chest. Anger? No. Not quite...

“What do you suggest?” He asks a few heartbeats later.

Mathew raises his eyes. “I suggest you get him on your side, _again_.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? He doesn’t trust me.”

“He did, once. Use that.”

Easier said than done. Hyungwon knows there’s only one way to contact the Assassin and even that is a shot in the dark. They’d agreed early on that should Hoseok’s services ever be needed, Hyungwon was to send someone to a pub downtown called The Wheezing Mermaid. But Hyungwon doubts Hoseok will show up this time. If ever again, even.

“He might kill me…” He says.

“He might try,” Mathew agrees. “But you have a way with words. He will listen to you. You just have to reach out.”

The footman grins from ear to ear. “Woah, I am so glad I took this job—I mean thank you for accepting me! This is so exciting, isn’t it?”

Mathew and Hyungwon exchange a look.

“At my age,” the butler says, “one must ration one’s excitement.”

“I am not your age and I am already fuming,” says Hyungwon.

“Which is why,” Mathew continues, “Sir, I think you should go by yourself.”

Hyungwon shakes his head. “Wait. _What?”_ He gawks. “First you tell me I need to be careful. Now you tell me I should venture downtown on my own? I'll be dad shamed if it—”

“Sir, vulgarity is no substitute for wit. Let’s keep ourselves calm.”

“I am calm!” He really isn't.

The footman squeaks, “I love this household.”

“Sir…”

Hyungwon hides his face between his hands and groans. “Fine, I will go…”

The unknown feeling grows. Anger? No... It starts with an S.


	13. Sequence 4, Memory 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte Walker - was a prostitute and pickpocket who had a long and eventful career in the St Giles area of London.

_September, 1791_  
_London_

 

 

  
_“He who stops being better stops being good.”_

 

 

  
In the middle of the street roll chaises, carriages and wagons in an unending stream. Above this ruckus and the buzz and clatter of ten thousand of tongues and feet, Hyungwon hears the chimes from church towers, the bells of the postmen, fiddles and hurdy-gurdies and tambourines of English mountebanks, and the cries of those who sell hot and cold viands in the open at the street corners.

He waits.

“God bless me!” someone cries.

“Poor creature!” someone else says.

Then the first stops, appearing to sympathize with the misfortunes of said poor creature. But all of a sudden they are laughing again because someone has laid down by mistake in the gutter.

The sun is setting.

Hyungwon walks.

He walks down a street taking half an hour to cover from end to end, with double rows of brightly shining lamps. A street that leads to another street. And, consequentially, to an alley.

He stops. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe he should just turn back. People want him dead and there is he, walking around London as if he’s bait. And maybe he is. Maybe he should just let it happen.

He can’t help but scoff at the thought.

_As if..._

And so, he walks.

He walks and scoffs again when The Wheezing Mermaid comes into his line of sight.

Honestly, Hyungwon doesn’t know what to expect. Part of him doesn’t believe he had just walked all the way there to… to… to apologize to someone who had walked out on him over a stupid suspicion that could have been avoided. And what had Hoseok expected? He isn’t the only one bound to something greater than himself. Hyungwon, too, is expected to be of some use to The Order. Hyungwon had always known that to have his freedom he would have to compromise whenever necessary.

He takes a deep breath.

And another.

And maybe one more, because— _darn_ —he is already regretting listening to Mathew in the first place. Not to mention his head still hurts and there’s a cut and—and maybe Hoseok is going to kill him. Maybe being almost _certainly_.

But just as Hyungwon realises that he doesn’t care and decides to move, someone who had been walking down the street stops just a few feet away.

Hyungwon raises his eyes and stares a bit surprised and making little to no effort to hide it. He hadn’t expected it to be this easy. Except he knew the hardest part was still ahead.

He glances away, instead following a passer-by with eyes. He feels his face relax and only then he says, “Hey.” Eyes shooting back to Hoseok who looks, well, unreadable.

“Hey,” Hoseok answers back and Hyungwon almost doesn’t hear him.

“I… I mean, I—” Hyungwon shifts a little. Now he is feeling uncomfortable again. Uncomfortable because, for the first time, he feels like he is not in control. Whatever happens now will require his effort, and Hoseok will be the one judging if it is an effort worthy of attention. Which, in Hyungwon’s book, is not good enough. There is no certainty. Especially not in how Hoseok glares at him. And not in how Hoseok looks like he has just stepped out of an intense brawl, lip slightly bruised and hair clinging to his forehead. “You look like hell,” Hyungwon says as matter of fact.

“You look like you want something from me.”

There's a hum inside Hyungwon's chest. It claws at the back of his neck. “That’s a fine thing to say after you up and vanished.”

Hoseok cooly meets Hyungwon's eyes. “Right… You are a good liar. But I know your tells.”

Hyungwon frowns. “My tells? What are you even—”

“You deflect. You rationalize. And you tell yourself you’re right because it’s logical.” Hoseok looks down. “And then you move on. Thus, I doubt you are here because you want to explain yourself. You’re here because you need me.”

There is something bubbling under Hyungwon's skin. Anger? No. Not that feeling. _Shame_. He can feel his face contorting and his eyes rushing to look away. Yes, shame. “You are not wrong,” easier to say than saying Hoseok is, in fact, right.

And as if Hoseok had been hoping for that sentence, he sighs and says, “Neither were you.”

Hyungwon looks up. He hadn’t expected that. Again, he hadn’t expected a lot of things. He takes a step forward, slightly hesitating when Hoseok glances up at him, and his mouth starts moving before he thinks about it. “I need your help. But, unfortunately, I don’t have information to trade. I already gave you everything I had so… unless you want money—” He knows Hoseok hates being referenced as a mercenary, so he shuts up and lets his words hang.

“How much do you have on you right now?” Hoseok asks, voice unwavering, face still unreadable. And the question? Another surprise.

“A few coins. Why?”

Hoseok looks to his right. Hyungwon follows with his eyes and notices the entrance to The Wheezing Mermaid. He frowns. No. There is no way he is walking into—

Not even ten minutes later, there they are. Hoseok finishing his second pint, Hyungwon still struggling to take the mug to his lips. Even if the place looks sanitary, the people sitting around them don’t seem up to his standards of tidiness. Tidiness being a forgiving word.

“Do you… do you come here often?” He asks.

Hoseok, who hadn’t even glanced at him ever since they’d come in, finally turns his head. “Sometimes.” He shrugs.

“Lies,” speaks the barman, “he practically lives here.”

Hoseok frowns, then running a hand through his hair. Hyungwon can’t help but take note at the way it stays in place, fully revealing Hoseok’s forehead and eyes. Hoseok exhales loudly through his nose. “Don’t expose me. I just got you another client. A decent client, with actual money.”

The barman grins. “Aw, Wonho. Thank you so much.”

_Wonho?_

“Wonho?” Hyungwon tries in his lips almost chocking when Hoseok turns to him again, eyes wide and with a soft _huh_ between his lips.

“By the way, Wonho. Your lip looks messed up.” It does. It really does. “Should I get my kit or…?”

“I’m fine,” Hoseok replies, turning away, ears slightly red.

Hyungwon felt it. A slight discomfort. But he can't name it. There are so many feelings he can't name lately.

The barman collects a few empty mugs from the counter and frowns.“He was a skinny man. How did he manage to get you?”

“He didn’t. I just sort of… miscalculated,” Hoseok mumbles.

“What happened?”

“I slipped.”

The barman pauses. “You mean you fell?”

“I mean I slipped. There was mud and—”

“You fell.”

Hyungwon smiles and realizes he feels slightly warm inside. Like a bubbly, bubbly buzz. A buzz he hasn’t felt since— “So,” he starts, “ _Wonho_.” And watches with amusement when Hoseok grins slightly and tries to hide it by looking away. “Can we talk?”

The barman chuckles and turns away. “Business? I am officially gone. I am air. Gone.”

Hoseok finishes his drink and sighs. “What do you need?”

Simple. No strings attached. No need to explain because they both know they will never agree with each other about everything. Maybe Hyungwon will do things Hoseok won’t approve of and maybe Hoseok will do things Hyungwon will disagree with. But maybe that doesn’t matter. Maybe they can just… compromise.

 

 

 

  
It’s already past midnight.

Hyungwon knows St Giles is a dangerous zone but he figures Hoseok, better than anyone else, must have found his way around. All he had to do was meet with this strange benefactor, grab a package and leave without causing a scene.

Considering Hyungwon’s latest experience in St Giles, he isn’t very optimistic about this whole business. So, of course, when Hoseok finally shows up in Hyungwon’s balcony, Hyungwon can’t help but exhale a breath he’d didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Here,” Hoseok steps closer, a little breathless having climbed all the way up there, “the package.”

Hyungwon leans away from the railway and takes the wrapped box in his hands. “Thank you.” He can’t help but notice the way Hoseok eyes him up and down, probably wondering about why Hyungwon is only wearing pants, socks and a very thin and baggy white shirt. “Did you meet with them personally?”

Hoseok blinks and looks away. “Yes. They were—uhm,” he grins, eyes shyly looking back towards Hyungwon, “have you heard of Charlotte Walker?”

“Charlotte… the pickpocket? The one occasionally reported in The Times?”

“Yes, the prostitute.”

Hyungwon blinks. “Wait. Was she…?”

“The benefactor? Yes,” Hoseok snorts. “And she’s crazy.”

“But…” Hyungwon is clueless. “How did she acquire this?” He shakes the box.

“I don’t know what that is but hey, never underestimate St Giles’ prostitutes. Their information network would crumple yours in less than an hour.”

Hyungwon raises an eyebrow. “I take it you speak from experience.”

Hoseok opens his mouth to reply, then closes it, opting to smile and look away. “Whatever.”

“Tell me Charlotte didn’t try to eat you alive…”

“Well,” Hoseok licks his lips, “I can’t tell. But it was an interesting experience.”

Hyungwon slowly moves to sit down on the floor and Hoseok, now looking a bit fidgety, glances down at him. Hyungwon unwraps the box, then bringing it close to his ear and shaking it one more time. Hoseok kneels next to him and they exchange a quickly glimpse.

“Explosive?” Hoseok mocks.

“Might be.”

“What is it?”

Hyungwon opens the box and both stare at its contents.

_Opium._

Of course, Hyungwon’s heart feels like it wants to run up his throat and take the closest exit out of there. A stupid feeling, really. But a feeling nonetheless.

Considering how little they had spoken about their little—big disagreement, at this point, Hyungwon expects Hoseok to just get up and leave. But he doesn’t.

Hoseok doesn’t leave, silently sitting down next to Hyungwon instead. “Is it yours?” He asks, voice far too calm.

“What? No! Honestly, this is not what I’d expected.”

Their eyes lock. Once again, Hoseok’s expression is unreadable. Hyungwon can’t tell if Hoseok is angry, sad, disappointed… Whatever he is feeling, he is probably judging and—and then Hoseok looks down at the box, frowning slightly.

“Why would…” He tils his head. “Why would someone go through all this trouble to send you…” He grimaces, “well, this?”

Hyungwon sighs. “I don’t know. I was told to meet a benefactor in St Giles to collect information and money, not… not _this_.”

Hoseok tilts his chin up, eyes still craved on the box in Hyungwon’s hands. “Daniel was supposed to be investigating the opium trades. The day we—the day I went to the distillery, I was supposed to look for evidence. Something connecting you and the Templars to the opium market. Of course, I didn’t find anything… Not opium at least.”

Hyungwon lowers his head to meet Hoseok’s eyes. “I sold the distillery.” He doesn’t get an answer but he’s glad to see the slight slump of Hoseok’s shoulders. “And I don’t know anything about the opium trades.”

Hoseok nods and looks away. “At the pub you told me you were being targeted. Were they Assassins?”

“Yes.”

“How often?”

“Twice, so far. And…” Hyungwon looks down, “Mathew killed one of them…”

Hoseok’s lips thin into a line. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Silence.

Hyungwon bites at his lower lip, fighting with a rough bit of skin he’d felt with his tongue. Hoseok crosses his legs and leans a little closer, head hanging between his shoulders.

The silence stretches.

Then, Hyungwon speaks. “How fares your search for the Piece of Eden?”

Hoseok laughs to himself. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, one of the ministers oversees the national treasury. I need to find him and talk to him.”

“Just talk?”

Hoseok waves his hand dismissively, “Intimidate, whatever.”

“Can I help?” Hyungwon mutters without thinking. He regrets it the next second because he really doesn’t care. He shouldn’t care, at least.

Hoseok looks up and has to lean back a little so he doesn’t invade Hyungwon’s personal space. “You say you don’t care, but you want to help?”

“I’m bored. You see, my job isn’t—”

Hoseok laughs, which knocks Hyungwon’s train of thought right off track. “Of course you are.”

They look at each other again before looking away. And then, Hoseok is getting up.

“I have something I need to look into,” he says, eyes on the horizon. “This whole opium business stinks.”

Hyungwon looks at the box in his hands. “Don’t get into trouble because of me.”

“It’s not because of you.” Something shifts in Hoseok’s voice. “I just don’t like being lied to. And I am tired of being used.” And on that note, he leaves. Hyungwon only has a few minutes to register those words and interiorize them before they are but echoes in his head.

 _Don’t lie._ Tell the truth.

 _Don’t use._ Care for.

 _Don’t take for granted._ Never again.


	14. Sequence 5, Memory 1

_October, 1791_   
_London_

 

 

  
_“Whosoever controls London, controls the world.”_

 

 

  
“The new Council has decided we are to cease all activities in London and retreat to Crawley,” Master D’Lewis announces once everyone has gathered in the social room. Whispers quickly erupt from the audience and D’Lewis must raise his voice to quiet them. “You all know as well as I do that London is now in Templar domain. We need to regroup. We need to strengthen our numbers—”

Master Daniel takes a step forward. “Are you telling us to run away?”

“Daniel, calm down,” speaks Master Anthony.

Hoseok can hear how tense everyone sounds. How tense everyone _feels_. And while these news sound like a great opportunity for the Brotherhood, Hoseok can’t help but wonder how much of it is but a show of plain vulnerability.

The Assassin Council. The governing body of the Brotherhood. _Good to know the English are catching up. But..._

“The Council shall guide us,” says D’Lewis, “sound advice that I would have seconded as your Mentor.”

Daniel slams both hands on the table. “Why are you stepping down? Why must we run off with our tails between our legs?! We should stay and fight! Sacrifice ourselves for the cause! Before Altair, that was the Levantine approach.”

Hoseok is quite surprised to hear his own voice when he says, “You mean a dagger in broad daylight, as we’re cut down where we stand?” He knows he is speaking out of turn, but he is already beyond caring.

The people surrounding him make way for him to step forward towards the table. And he does, first few steps a little reluctant. Master D’Lewis has his eyes wide open, eyebrows starting to knit in a frown. Master Anthony looks unreadable. But Daniel seems pleased.

“It sends a powerful message…” He says, fists slowly unclenching.

“And you’re all about sending messages…” Hoseok tests.

Daniel smirks. “Whenever necessary.”

Hoseok answers with a glare. His instincts are screaming at him, red flags waving furiously as if in the middle of a storm. There is something going on. There is something happening in the shadows of London and Hoseok knows Daniel is behind it.

“I agree,” says someone in the crowd, also speaking out of turn. “We need to do something!”

“Agreed,” someone else shouts.

“Why are we running?”

“We need to step up!”

_“SILENCE!”_ Comes D’Lewis unwavering voice that echoes through the building and seems to make everyone flinch where they stand. “For months, I have been wrangling the Brotherhood, the Parliament and the King. Taken all together they have the political acumen of an especially stupid village council. I am old and tired. And I will not have you— _any of you!_ — disrespect what little I have managed to maintain in this era of chaos for our Creed!” His words resonate through the room. “The Templars have taken everything from us. It is time for us to pick up whatever we _still_ have and _leave_ before we, too, vanish in this storm.”

No one else dares speak. No one else dares question. But Hoseok knows he is not going anywhere. Especially not when Daniel has that strange glint in his eyes.

It's not a coincidence that the moment Daniel asks Hoseok to investigate if Hyungwon is involved in anything shady, Hoseok discovers the distillery. It's not a coincidence Hyungwon starts being targeted right after Hoseok walks out on him. It's not a coincidence someone is trying to incriminate Hyungwon, probably the only one standing in the way of an all-out war with the Templars. Why? Because of Hoseok. Because while someone with ties to the Brotherhood stands on the dividing line, no Assassin will dare cross it.

And it’s not until much later, when everyone is leaving the room and Hoseok feels a hand pulling him into a corner, that everything seems to come together.

“Master Anthony?” Hoseok looks around before lowering his head in respect.

Anthony seems fidgety, nervously eyeing the main corridor. “We don’t have much time.” He meets Hoseok’s eyes. “You have to find the artefact as soon as possible. I doubt this new Council will let you take care of the investigation on your own. In fact, they won’t want you anywhere near Crawley.”

Hoseok blinks. “What?”

“Don’t you get it? The formation of the Council was rushed. You found out that the artefact is real, and they won’t let you take it. You have to find it and get out of here… as fast as you can.”

Hoseok bites at his lower lip and looks down. He knows he must tell the truth. Someone must know the truth. “I know where it is,” he blurts out, flinching once he realises he’s said it.

Anthony tils his head forward. “I had figured as much… and somehow I’m glad you have decided to keep that information to yourself.” He holds Hoseok’s arm, a faint smile on his face. “You have to hurry.” And then he nods and takes a step back.

_Stress._

Hoseok knows he can’t do it on his own. He knows he needs help. He needs someone on the inside and he needs—Hyungwon. He needs Hyungwon.

_Anxiety._

And just as Anthony turns away, Hoseok grabs the man by his wrist with a loud slap. “I need your help.”

Anthony glances at Hoseok’s hand and then up at his face. “I’m listening.”

“It’s Daniel. I think he’s up to something.”

 

 

 

  
Hoseok has never been to the private quarters of Hyungwon’s mansion. It’s only natural he’s gaping as Mathew escorts him— with ill-disguised irritation stamped across his face—through the corridor. The draperies look amazing, warm, even, cosy. And there’re so many rooms, Hoseok loses count after the tenth.

“What’s happening?” He asks, “Where are you taking me?”

“There’s a private party at the palace in about week,” Mathew explains. “His Lordship is in the dressing room, trying on a few suits.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. _Dressing room, huh? These people have a room for every little thing, don’t they? The dining room, the bedroom, the living room, the dressing room, the smoking room… making babies room? Shitting room? Oh! Right. That one is called bathroom._

Plus, his Lordship is not exactly a lord…. Is he? Hoseok realises he doesn’t know anything about aristocracy. Not that he cares but…

“A party, huh? Glad to know I wasn’t invited,” he jokes.

Mathew stops before a closed door, smiling to himself as he says, “Neither were the horses.”

Hoseok is about to talk back when Mathew flings the door open. He walks in first, announcing Hoseok’s presence and then taking a post near the wall, watching like an eagle as Hoseok carefully enters the room.

“Ah, I’m glad you’re here,” says Hyungwon. _Why is his shirt unbuttoned, oh my_ — “Kid, measure him, too.”

A boy, not younger than them, smile wide, turns around to look at Hoseok, measuring tape in hand. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Sir. I’ve heard much.” He bows.

Hoseok freaks out and bows back, probably lower than he’d intended. Once he straightens up he glowers at Hyungwon’s che— _Hyungwon_. “What’s going on?”

Hyungwon raises an eyebrow. “A party.”

“Yes, I—” Hoseok feels hands on him before noticing the young servant taking measurements around his chest. He flushes. “This is— _why?”_

“It’s my uncle’s birthday. Obviously, I was invited even though I know the man hates me. Anyway, I figured you would like to come.”

“What? To a party? With _you?”_ Now, that is a ridiculous idea. “You realize I don’t even know how you people walk? And the etiquette alone…”

Hyungwon sits on a chair nearby and crosses his legs. “Ah, most people are all mouth and trousers. Don’t worry about that. I’ll teach you the basics.” He looks at his nails. “The ministers will be there…” The mischievous look he shoots Hoseok means he’s given this particular problem enough thought. _Manipulative little_ —“I am certain that is convenient for you.”

“Hopefully nobody in the kitchen has the pox this time,” says Mathew.

“Be grateful for small mercies,” says Hyungwon.

What are they even talking about? It’s really hard for Hoseok to think with that miniature servant bracing around with the measurement tape around his body.

“Actually,” he starts, pausing to roll his eyes when the boy squeezes his bicep, “I came here because I need to talk to you. Various topics. One of them being the artefact.”

Hyungwon looks up. “Already working on that one, as you can see. That’s why you need into that party. I am not letting you threaten any of our ministers over a stupid necklace. You and I will go together, I will introduce you and you will talk. Better practice your English.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes, _again_ , stepping out of the young servant’s reach and closer towards Hyungwon. “My English is _fine_. And that _stupid_ _necklace_ has become a problem…” He pauses, grimaces a little and then sighs. “You were right… they won’t let me walk out of here with a Piece in my pocket.”

“Obviously.” Hyungwon frowns. “But…? I sense a _but_ coming.”

“But there is no point in walking out of here… is there?”

“Explain yourself.”

Hoseok steps closer and crouches in front of Hyungwon. Their eyes meet. “I can’t take the artefact back to Korea. Whatever it does… the Assassins will use it against the Templars and who knows what type collateral damage they’re willing to risk…” He looks down, ashamed. “I knew this from the start. I just thought… I thought it was necessary, even if I didn’t believe it myself. Not entirely, at least… I need—I need to find it. And I need to hide it. And I need your help.” He looks up then, meeting Hyungwon’s eyes again. “The Assassins are leaving London. There’s a new Council now and, apparently, I am not wanted there… So whatever I do now will pretty much be like declaring myself rogue.”

Hyungwon’s expression changes, edges soft, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “I am sorry. Are you alright?” He sounds… worried?

_No._

“Yes,” Hoseok replies. “I have a job to do.” _To stand over this invisible line and prevent bad things from happening._ “I will be fine as long as I have something I need to do.”

“I see… Well.” Hyungwon uncrosses his legs, hand reaching between them. He shamelessly grabs a handful of Hoseok’s hair, forcing his head to the left and then glancing towards Mathew. “We will need to do something about this as well.”

Hoseok blinks at the wall across the room as he tries to understand why he feels so unwrapped, so vulnerable so suddenly. He doesn’t even realise he is not breathing anymore until Hyungwon lets him go.

Both of them get up when Mathew and the young servant exit the room. There’s a pressure at the back of Hoseok’s neck as he glances at Hyungwon up and down and watches as Hyungwon does the same.

“So,” Hoseok starts, “a party… What does your kind do at a party?”

Hyungwon smiles. “Trash talk, mostly. But with class.”

“How does one trash talk with class? Are we supposed to take susceptibilities into account?”

“Oh, no. Of course, not. Mention the lands across the pond and everyone will choke on their drink. Don’t worry about hurting their feelings. They have more money than feelings, either way.”

Hoseok looks down with a self-satisfied smirk. “Is that true for you as well?”

“Depends, I think.”

A pause.

Hoseok nods. “I see. So, what do I have to wear?”

Hyungwon starts buttoning his shirt. “I’ll take care of that. Or—err—Mathew will.”

“I am expecting,” Hoseok says, calmly, contemplatively. “To die of utter humiliation.”

“You’ll be fine. You’re charming. At least my maids seem to think so…”

“The maids?”

Hyungwon seems to struggle with one of the buttons. He frowns. “Yes, they… they always talk about you whenever they think no one is listening. It’s driving Mathew insane.”

Hoseok lifts an eyebrow. “Mathew or you?”

The button pops. “Both. If it prevents them from doing their job, then they’re useless.”

At that, without really caring, Hoseok snorts and starts laughing.

“Don’t laugh,” Hyungwon demands, snorting as he says it.

They stop to look at each other and then burst into laughter again.

It’s a nice, warm feeling. One that almost makes Hoseok forget about how the world around him seems to be falling apart. One he hopes could last forever.


End file.
